Cbitton 


THE  WILDERNESS 
HUNTER 


BY 


THEODORE  ROOSEVELT 


PUBLISHED  WITH  THE  PERMISSION  OF  THE 
AUTHOR  THROUGH  SPECIAL  ARRANGEMENT 
WITH  THE  CENTURY  CO.,  MESSRS.  CHARLES 

SCIIIBNER'S  SONS,  AND  a.  p.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


NEW   YORK 
THE   REVIEW  OF  REVIEWS  COMPANY 

MCMX 


COPYRIGHT  1893 
BY  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

This  edition  is  published  under  arrangement  with 
G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons,  of  New  York  and  London. 


TO 

E.  K.  R. 


£48039 


"They  saw  the  silences 
Move  by  and  beckon ;  saw  the  forms, 
The  very  beards,  of  burly  storms, 
And  heard  them  talk  like  sounding  seas  .  . 
They  saw  the  snowy  mountains  rolled 
And  heaved  along  the  nameless  lands 
Like  mighty  billows;    saw   the   gold 
Of  awful  sunsets;  saw  the  blush 
Of  sudden  dawn,  and  felt  the  hush 
Of  heaven  when  the  day  sat  down 
And  hid  his  face  in  dusky  hands." 

— Joaquin  Miller 


"In  vain  the  speeding  of  shyness; 

In  vain  the  elk  takes  to  the  inner  passes  of  the  woods  .  .  , 

.  .  .  where  geese  nip  their  food  with  short  jerks, 
Where  sundown  shadows  lengthen  over  the  limitless  prairie, 
Where  herds  of  buffalo  make  a  crawling  spread  of  the  square 

miles,  far  and  near, 
WTiere  winter  wolves  bark  amid  wastes  of  snow  and  ice-clad 

trees  .  .  . 
The  moose,  large  as  an  ox,  cornered  by  hunters,  plunging  with 

his  forefeet,  the  hoofs  as  sharp  as  knives  .  .  . 
The  blazing  fire  at  night,  the  sweet  taste  of  supper,  the  talk, 

the  bed  of  hemlock  boughs,  and  the  bear-skin." 

— Walt  Whitman 


CONTENTS 


PREFACE 


CHAPTER   I 

THE  AMERICAN  WILDERNESS;  WILDERNESS  HUNTERS  AND 
WILDERNESS  GAME 

The  American  Wilderness — Forests,  Plains,  Mountains 
—Likeness  and  Unlikeness  to  the  Old- World  Wilder 
ness — Wilderness  Hunters— Boone,  Crockett,  Hous 
ton,  Carson — The  Trappers — The  Buffalo  Hunters — 
The  Stockmen  — The  Regular  Army  — Wilderness 
Game — Bison,  Moose,  Elk,  Caribou,  Deer,  Antelope 
— Other  Game — Hunting  in  the  Wilderness  ....  9 

CHAPTER   II 

HUNTING   FROM   THE   RANCH;     THE   BLACKTAIL   DEER 

In  the  Cattle  Country — Life  on  a  Ranch— A  Round-up- 
Branding  a  Maverick — The  Bad  Lands— A  Shot  at  a 
Blacktail— Still-hunting  the  Blacktail— Its  Habits- 
Killing  a  Buck  in  August — A  Shot  at  Close  Range 
— Occasional  Unwariness  of  Blacktail 33 

CHAPTER   III 

THE  WHITETAIL  DEER;  AND  THE  BLACKTAIL  OF  THE 
COLUMBIA 

The  Whitetail— Yields  Poor  Sport— Fire  Hunting— Hunt 
ing  with  Hounds — Shooting  at  Running  Game — Queer 

VOL.  II.  (I) 


2  Contents 

Adventure — Anecdotes  of  Plainsmen — Good  and  Bad 
Shots— A  Wagon  Trip — A  Shot  from  the  Ranch-house 
Veranda — The  Columbian  Blacktail 50 

CHAPTER   IV 

ON  THE  CATTLE  RANGES;  THE  PRONG-HORN  ANTELOPE 

Riding  to  the  Round-up — The  Open  Plains — Sights  and 
Sounds — Gophers,  Prairie  Dogs,  Sharp-tail  Grouse, 
Antelope — The  Cow-camp — Standing  Night  Guard — 
Dawn — Make  an  Antelope  Hunt — An  Easy  Stalk — A 
Difficult  Stalk— Three  Antelope  Shot— The  Plains 
Skylark— The  Meadow-Lark— The  Mocking  -  bird- 
Other  Singers — Harsher  Wilderness  Sounds — Pack 
Rats— Plains  Ferret,  Its  Ferocity— The  War  Eagle- 
Attacks  Antelope — Kills  Jack-Rabbit — One  Shot  on 
Wing  with  Rifle 70 

CHAPTER  V 

HUNTING   THE   PRONG-BUCK;    FROST,  FIRE,  AND   THIRST 

Hunting  the  Prong-Buck — Long  Shots — Misses — Winter 
Weather — A  Hunt  in  December — Riding  in  the  Bitter 
Cold— The  Old  Hunter's  Tepee— A  Night  in  a  Line 
Camp — An  Antelope  Herd — Two  Bucks  Shot — Riding 
Back  to  Ranch — The  Immigrant  Train — Hunting  in 
Fall — Fighting  Fire — A  Summer  Hunt — Sufferings 
from  Thirst — Swimming  Cattle  Across  a  Swollen 
Stream— Wagon  Trip  to  the  Black  Hills— The  Great 
Prairies — A  Prong-buck  Shot — Pleasant  Camp — Buck 
Shot  in  Morning — Continue  our  Journey — Shooting 
Sage  Fowl  and  Prairie  Fowl  with  Rifle 91 

CHAPTER  VI 

AMONG   THE   HIGH   HILLS;    THE   BIGHORN   OR   MOUNTAIN   SHEEP 

A  Summer  on  the  Ranch — Working  Among  the  Cattle 
— Killing  Game  for  the  Ranch — A  Trip  After  Moun- 


Contents  3 

tain  Sheep — The  Bad  Lands — Solitary  Camp — The 
Old  Horse  Manitou — Still -hunt  at  Dawn — Young 
Ram  Shot — A  Hunt  in  the  Rocky  Mountains — An 
Old  Bighorn  Stalked  and  Shot— Habits  of  the  Game  .  121 

CHAPTER  VII 

MOUNTAIN  GAME;  THE  WHITE  GOAT 

A  Trip  to  the  Big  Hole  Basin — Incidents  of  Travel  with 
a  Wagon — Camp  Among  the  Mountains — A  Trip  on 
Foot  After  Goats — Spruce  Grouse — Lying  Out  at 
Night— A  Climb  over  the  High  Peaks— Two  Goats 
Shot — Weary  Tramp  Back — A  Hunt  in  the  Kootenai 
Country — Hard  Climbing  Among  the  Wooded  Moun 
tains — Goat  Shot  on  Brink  of  Chasm — Ptarmigan  for 
Supper — Goat  Hunting  Very  Hard  Work — Ways  and 
Habits  of  the  Goats— Not  much  Decrease  in  Numbers  133 

CHAPTER  VIII 

HUNTING   IN   THE   SELKIRKS ;    THE   CARIBOU 

A  Camp  on  Kootenai  Lake — Traveling  on  Foot  Through 
the  Dense  Forests— Excessive  Toil— Water  Shrew  and 
Water  Thrush— Black  Bear  Killed— Mountain  Climb 
ing — Woodchucks  and  Conies — The  Indian  Ammal — 
Night"  Sounds— A  Long  Walk— A  Caribou  Killed— A 
Midwinter  Trip  on  Snowshoes  in  Maine — Footprints 
on  the  Snow— A  Helpless  Deer— Caribou  at  Ease  in 
the  Deep  Drifts 156 

CHAPTER   IX 

THE   WAPITI   OR    ROUND-HORNED    ELK 

A  Hunt  in  the  Bitter  Root  Mountains— A  Trip  on  Foot- 
Two  Bull  Elk  Fighting— The  Peacemaker— All  Three 
Shot  — Habits  of  the  Wapiti  — Their  Bungling —A 
Grand  Chorus— Shooting  a  Bull  at  Sunrise— Another 
Killed  near  the  Ranch— Vanishing  of  the  Elk— Its 


4  Contents 

Antlers  —  The  Lynx  —  Porcupine  —  Chickarees  and 
Chipmunks  —  Clark's  Crow  —  Lewis'  Woodpecker  — 
Whiskey- jack — Trout — The  Yellowstone  Canyon  .  .184 

CHAPTER   X 

AN   ELK-HUNT   AT   TWO-OCEAN   PASS 

In  the  Shoshones — Traveling  with  a  Pack-train— Scenery 
— Flowers — A  Squaw-man — Bull  Elk  Shot  in  Rain 
while  Challenging — Storm — Breaking  Camp  in  Rain 
— Two-Ocean  Pass — Our  Camp — A  Young  Ten-pointer 
Shot — The  Mountains  in  Moonlight — Blue  Grouse— 
Snowshoe  Rabbits— Death  of  a  Master  Bull— The 
Tetons— Following  a  Bull  by  Scent— 111  Luck— Luck 
Changes— Death  of  Spike  Bull— Three  Bulls  Killed— 
Traveling  Home — Heavy  Snowstorm — Bucking  Horse 
— Various  Hunts  Compared — Number  Cartridges  Used 
—Still-hunting  the  Elk 208 

CHAPTER  XI 

THE   MOOSE;    THE   BEAST   OP   THE   WOODLAND 

The  Moose  of  the  Rocky  Mountains— Its  Habits— Diffi 
cult  Nature  of  Its  Haunts — Repeated  Failures  while 
Hunting  It — Watching  a  Marsh  at  Dawn — A  Moose 
in  the  Reeds — Stalking  and  Shooting  Him — Traveling 
Light  with  a  Pack-train — A  Beaver  Meadow — Shoot 
ing  a  Big  Bull  at  Dawn — The  Moose  in  Summer,  in 
Winter — Young  Moose — Pugnacity  of  Moose — Still- 
hunting  Moose  —  Rather  More  Easy  to  Kill  than 
Whitetail  Deer— At  Times  a  Dangerous  Antagonist 
— The  Winter  Yards — Hunting  on  Snowshoes — A 
Narrow  Escape — A  Fatal  Encounter 238 

CHAPTER  XII 

HUNTING    LORE 

Game  Which  Ought  Not  to  Be  Killed— Killing  Black 
Bear  with  a  Knife — Sports  with  Rod  and  Shot-gun 


Contents  5 

— Snowshoeing  and  Mountaineering — American  Writ 
ers  on  Out-door  Life — Burroughs — Thoreau — Audu- 
bon,  Coues,  etc. — American  Hunting  Books — Ameri 
can  Writers  on  Life  in  the  Wilderness:  Parkman, 
Irving — Cooper  on  Pioneer  Life — American  States 
men  and  Soldiers  Devoted  to  the  Chase — Lincoln, 
Jackson,  Israel  Putnam — A  Letter  from  Webster  on 
Trout-fishing — Clay — Washington — Hunting  Extracts 
from  Washington's  Diaries — Washington  as  'a  Fox- 
hunter  269 

APPENDIX .  280 


PREFACE 

FOR  a  number  of  years  much  of  my  life  was 
spent  either  in  the  wilderness  or  on  the 
borders  of  the  settled  country — if,  indeed,  "set 
tled"  is  a  term  that  can  rightly  be  applied  to 
the  vast,  scantily  peopled  regions  where  cattle- 
ranching  is  the  only  regular  industry.  Dur 
ing  this  time  I  hunted  much,  among  the  moun 
tains  and  on  the  plains,  both  as  a  pastime  and 
to  procure  hides,  meat,  and  robes  for  use  on 
the  ranch ;  and  it  was  my  good  luck  to  kill  all 
the  various  kinds  of  large  game  that  can  prop 
erly  be  considered  to  belong  to  temperate 
North  America. 

In  hunting,  the  finding  and  killing  of  the 
game  is  after  all  but  a  part  of  the  whole.  The 
free,  self-reliant,  adventurous  life,  with  its 
rugged  and  stalwart  democracy;  the  wild  sur 
roundings,  the  grand  beauty  of  the  scenery, 
the  chance  to  study  the  ways  and  habits  of  the 
woodland  creatures — all  these  unite  to  give  to 
the  career  of  the  wilderness  hunter  its  peculiar 
charm.  The  chase  is  among  the  best  of  all 
national  pastimes;  it  cultivates  that  vigorous 

(7) 


8  Preface 

manliness  for  the  lack  of  which  in  a  nation, 
as  in  an  individual,  the  possession  of  no  other 
qualities  can  possibly  atone. 

No  one,  but  he  who  has  partaken  thereof, 
can  understand  the  keen  delight  of  hunting  in 
lonely  lands.  For  him  is  the  joy  of  the  horse 
well  ridden  and  the  rifle  well  held;  for  him. 
the  long  days  of  toil  and  hardship,  resolutely 
endured,  and  crowned  at  the  end  with  tri 
umph.  In  after  years  there  shall  come  forever 
to  his  mind  the  memory  of  endless  prairies 
shimmering  in  the  bright  sun;  of  vast  snow- 
clad  wastes  lying  desolate  under  gray  skies; 
of  the  melancholy  marshes;  of  the  rush  of 
mighty  rivers;  of  the  breath  of  the  evergreen 
forest  in  summer;  of  the  crooning  of  ice-arm 
ored  pines  at  the  touch  of  the  winds  of  win 
ter;  of  cataracts  roaring  between  hoary  moun 
tain  masses ;  of  all  the  innumerable  sights  and 
sounds  of  the  wilderness;  of  its  immensity  and 
mystery;  and  of  the  silences  that  brood  in  its 
still  depths. 

THEODORE  ROOSEVELT 

SAGAMORE  HILL, 
June, 


THE    WILDERNESS    HUNTER 

CHAPTER    I 

THE  AMERICAN  WILDERNESS;  WILDERNESS  HUNTERS 
AND  WILDERNESS  GAME 

MANIFOLD  are  the  shapes  taken  by  the  Ameri 
can  wilderness.  In  the  east,  from  the  Atlan 
tic  Coast  to  the  Mississippi  Valley,  lies  a  land  of 
magnificent  hardwood  forest.  In  endless  variety 
and  beauty,  the  trees  cover  the  ground,  save  only 
where  they  have  been  cleared  away  by  man,  or 
where  toward  the  west  the  expanse  of  the  forest  is 
broken  by  fertile  prairies.  Toward  the  north,  this 
region  of  hardwood  trees  merges  insensibly  into  the 
southern  extension  of  the  great  sub-arctic  forest; 
here  the  silver  stems  of  birches  gleam  against  the 
sombre  background  of  coniferous  evergreens.  In 
the  southeast  again,  by  the  hot,  oozy  coasts  of  the 
South  Atlantic  and  the  Gulf,  the  forest  becomes 
semi-tropical ;  palms  wave  their  feathery  fronds,  and 
the  tepid  swamps  teem  with  reptile  life. 

Some  distance  beyond  the  Mississippi,  stretching 
from  Texas  to  North  Dakota,  and  westward  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  lies  the  plains  country.  This  is 

(9) 


io  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

a  region  of  light  rainfall,  where  the  ground  is  clad 
with  short  grass,  while  cottonwood  trees  fringe  the 
courses  of  the  winding  plains  streams ;  streams  that 
are  alternately  turbid  torrents  and  mere  dwindling 
threads  of  water.  The  great  stretches  of  natural 
pasture  are  broken  by  gray  sage-brush  plains,  and 
tracts  of  strangely  shaped  and  colored  Bad  Lands; 
sun-scorched  wastes  in  summer,  and  in  winter  arctic 
in  their  iron  desolation.  Beyond  the  plains  rise  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  their  flanks  covered  with  conif 
erous  woods;  but  the  trees  are  small,  and  do  not 
ordinarily  grow  very  closely  together.  Toward  the 
north  the  forest  becomes  denser,  and  the  peaks  high 
er  ;  and  glaciers  creep  down  toward  the  valleys  from 
the  fields  of  everlasting  snow.  The  brooks  are 
brawling,  trout-filled  torrents ;  the  swift  rivers  foam 
over  rapid  and  cataract,  on  their  way  to  one  or  the 
other  of  the  two  great  oceans. 

Southwest  of  the  Rockies  evil  and  terrible  deserts 
stretch  for  leagues  and  leagues,  mere  waterless 
wastes  of  sandy  plain  and  barren  mountain,  broken 
here  and  there  by  narrow  strips  of  fertile  ground. 
Rain  rarely  falls,  and  there  are  no  clouds  to  dim  the 
brazen  sun.  The  rivers  run  in  deep  canyons,  or  are 
swallowed  by  the  burning  sand;  the  smaller  water 
courses  are  dry  throughout  the  greater  part  of  the 
year. 

Beyond  this  desert  region  rise  the  sunny  Sierras 
of  California,  with  their  flower-clad  slopes  and 


The  American  Wilderness  n 

groves  of  giant  trees ;  and  north  of  them,  along  the 
coast,  the  rain-shrouded  mountain  chains  of  Oregon 
and  Washington,  matted  with  the  towering  growth 
of  the  mighty  evergreen  forest. 

The  white  hunters,  who  from  time  to  time  first 
penetrated  the  different  parts  of  this  wilderness, 
found  themselves  in  such  hunting  grounds  as  those 
wherein,  long  ages  before,  their  Old- World  fore 
fathers  had  dwelled ;  and  the  game  they  chased  was 
much  the  same  as  that  their  lusty  barbarian  ances 
tors  followed,  with  weapons  of  bronze  and  of  iron, 
in  the  dim  years  before  history  dawned.  As  late 
as  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century  the  turbulent 
village  nobles  of  Lithuania  and  Livonia  hunted  the 
bear,  the  bison,  the  elk,  the  wolf,  and  the  stag,  and 
hung  the  spoils  in  their  smoky  wooden  palaces;  and 
so,  two  hundred  years  later,  the  free  hunters  of 
Montana,  in  the  interludes  between  hazardous  min 
ing  quests  and  bloody  Indian  campaigns,  hunted 
game  almost  or  quite  the  same  in  kind,  through  the 
cold  mountain  forests  surrounding  the  Yellowstone 
and  Flathead  lakes,  and  decked  their  log  cabins  and 
ranch  houses  with  the  hides  and  horns  of  the  slaugh 
tered  beasts. 

Zoologically  speaking,  the  north  temperate  zones 
of  the  Old  and  New  Worlds  are  very  similar,  differ 
ing  from  one  another  much  less  than  they  do  from 
the  various  regions  south  of  them,  or  than  these 
regions  differ  among  themselves.  The  untrodden 


12  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

American  wilderness  resembles  both  in  game  and 
physical  character  the  forests,  the  mountains,  and 
the  steppes  of  the  Old  World  as  it  was  at  the  begin 
ning  of  our  era.  Great  woods  of  pine  and  fir,  birch 
and  beech,  oak  and  chestnut ;  streams  where  the  chief 
game  fish  are  spotted  trout  and  silvery  salmon; 
grouse  of  various  kinds  as  the  most  common  game 
birds;  all  these  the  hunter  finds  as  characteristic  of 
the  New  World  as  of  the  Old.  So  it  is  with  most 
of  the  beasts  of  the  chase,  and  so  also  with  the  fur- 
bearing  animals  that  furnish  to  the  trapper  alike  his 
life  work  and  his  means  of  livelihood.  The  bear, 
wolf,  bison,  moose,  caribou,  wapiti,  deer,  and  big 
horn,  the  lynx,  fox,  wolverine,  sable,  mink,  ermine, 
beaver,  badger,  and  otter  of  both  worlds  are  either 
identical  or  more  or  less  closely  kin  to  one  another. 
Sometimes  of  the  two  forms,  that  found  in  the  Old 
World  is  the  larger.  Perhaps  more  often  the  re 
verse  is  true,  the  American  beast  being  superior  in 
size.  This  is  markedly  the  case  with  the  wapiti, 
which  is  merely  a  giant  brother  of  the  European 
stag,  exactly  as  the  fisher  is  merely  a  very  large 
cousin  of  the  European  sable  or  marten.  The  ex 
traordinary  prong-buck,  the  only  hollow-horned  ru 
minant  which  sheds  its  horns  annually,  is  a  distant 
representative  of  the  Old- World  antelopes  of  the 
steppes;  the  queer  white  antelope-goat  has  for  its 
nearest  kinsfolk  certain  Himalayan  species.  Of  the 
animals  commonly  known  to  our  hunters  and  trap- 


The  American  Wilderness  13 

pers,  only  a  few,  such  as  the  cougar,  peccary,  rac 
coon,  possum  (and  among  birds  the  wild  turkey), 
find  their  nearest  representatives  and  type  forms  in 
tropical  America. 

Of  course  this  general  resemblance  does  not  mean 
identity.  The  differences  in  plant  life  and  animal 
life,  no  less  than  in  the  physical  features  of  the  land, 
are  sufficiently  marked  to  give  the  American  wilder 
ness  a  character  distinctly  its  own.  Some  of  the 
most  characteristic  of  the  woodland  animals,  some 
of  those  which  have  most  vividly  impressed  them 
selves  on  the  imagination  of  the  hunters  and  pioneer 
settlers,  are  the  very  ones  which  have  no  Old- World 
representatives.  The  wild  turkey  is  in  every  way 
the  king  of  American  game  birds.  Among  the  small 
beasts  the  coon  and  the  possum  are  those  which  have 
left  the  deepest  traces  in  the  humbler  lore  of  the 
frontier;  exactly  as  the  cougar — usually  under  the 
name  of  panther  or  mountain  lion — is  a  favorite 
figure  in  the  wilder  hunting  tales.  Nowhere  else  is 
there  anything  to  match  the  wealth  of  the  eastern 
hardwood  forests,  in  number,  variety,  and  beauty 
of  trees ;  nowhere  else  is  it  possible  to  find  conifers 
approaching  in  size  the  giant  redwoods  and  sequoias 
of  the  Pacific  slope.  Nature  here  is  generally  on  a 
larger  scale  than  in  the  Old- World  home  of  our 
race.  The  lakes  are  like  inland  seas,  the  rivers,  like 
arms  of  the  sea.  Among  stupendous  mountain 
chains  there  are  valleys  and  canyons  of  fathomless 


14  The  Wilderness   Hunter 

depth  and  incredible  beauty  and  majesty.  There 
are  tropical  swamps,  and  sad,  frozen  marshes;  des 
erts  and  Death  Valleys,  weird  and  evil,  and  the 
strange  wonderland  of  the  Wyoming  geyser  region. 
The  waterfalls  are  rivers  rushing  over  precipices; 
the  prairies  seem  without  limit,  and  the  forest  never 
ending.  ^ 

At  the  time  when  we  first  became  a  nation,  nine- 
tenths  of  the  territory  now  included  within  the  limits 
of  the  United  States  was  wilderness.  It  was  during 
the  stirring  and  troubled  years  immediately  preced 
ing  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution  that  the  most 
adventurous  hunters,  the  vanguard  of  the  hardy 
army  of  pioneer  settlers,  first  crossed  the  Allegha- 
nies,  and  roamed  far  and  wide  through  the  lonely, 
danger-haunted  forests  which  filled  the  No-man's- 
land  lying  between  the  Tennessee  and  the  Ohio. 
They  waged  ferocious  warfare  with  Shawnee  and 
Wyandot  and  wrought  huge  havoc  among  the 
herds  of  game  with  which  the  forest  teemed.  While 
the  first  Continental  Congress  was  still  sitting,  Dan 
iel  Boone,  the  archetype  of  the  American  hunter,  was 
leading  his  bands  of  tall  backwoods  riflemen  to  set 
tle  in  the  beautiful  country  of  Kentucky,  where  the 
red  and  the  white  warriors  strove  with  such  obsti 
nate  rage  that  both  races  alike  grew  to  know  it  as 
"the  dark  and  bloody  ground." 

Boone  and  his  fellow-hunters  were  the  heralds  of 
the  oncoming  civilization,  the  pioneers  in  that  con- 


The  American  Wilderness  15 

quest  of  the  wilderness  which  has  at  last  been  prac 
tically  achieved  in  our  own  day.  Where  they  pitched 
their  camps  and  built  their  log  huts  or  stockaded 
hamlets,  towns  grew  up,  and  men  who  were  tillers 
of  the  soil,  not  mere  wilderness  wanderers,  thronged 
in  to  take  and  hold  the  land.  Then,  ill-at-ease  among 
the  settlements  for  which  they  had  themselves  made 
ready  the  way,  and  fretted  even  by  the  slight  re 
straints  of  the  rude  and  uncouth  semi-civilization 
of  the  border,  the  restless  hunters  moved  onward 
into  the  yet  unbroken  wilds  where  the  game  dwelled 
and  the  red  tribes  marched  forever  to  war  and  hunt 
ing.  Their  untamable  souls  ever  found  something 
congenial  and  beyond  measure  attractive  in  the  law 
less  freedom  of  the  lives  of  the  very  savages  against 
whom  they  warred  so  bitterly. 

Step  by  step,  often  leap  by  leap,  the  frontier  of 
settlement  was  pushed  westward ;  and  ever  from  be 
fore  its  advance  fled  the  warrior  tribes  of  the  red 
men  and  the  scarcely  less  intractable  array  of  white 
Indian  fighters  and  game  hunters.  When  the  Rev 
olutionary  War  was  at  its  height,  George  Rogers 
Clark,  himself  a  mighty  hunter  of  the  old  back 
woods  type,  led  his  handful  of  hunter-soldiers  to  the 
conquest  of  the  French  towns  of  the  Illinois.  This 
was  but  one  of  the  many  notable  feats  of  arms 
performed  by  the  wild  soldiery  of  the  backwoods. 
Clad  in  their  fringed  and  tasseled  hunting-shirt  of 
buckskin  or  homespun,  with  coonskin  caps  and 


1 6  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

deer-hide  leggings  and  moccasins,  with  tomahawk 
and  scalping-knife  thrust  into  their  bead-worked 
belts,  and  long  rifles  in  hand,  they  fought  battle  after 
battle  of  the  most  bloody  character,  both  against  the 
Indians,  as  at  the  Great  Kanawha,  at  the  Fallen 
Timbers,  and  at  Tippecanoe,  and  against  more  civ 
ilized  foes,  as  at  King's  Mountain,  New  Orleans, 
and  the  River  Thames. 

Soon  after  the  beginning  of  the  present  century 
Louisiana  fell  into  our  hands,  and  the  most  daring 
hunters  and  explorers  pushed  through  the  forests  of 
the  Mississippi  Valley  to  the  great  plains,  steered 
across  these  vast  seas  of  grass  to  the  Rocky  Moun 
tains,  and  then  through  their  rugged  defiles  onward 
to  the  Pacific  Ocean.  In  every  work  of  exploration, 
and  in  all  the  earlier  battles  with  the  original  lords 
of  the  western  and  southwestern  lands,  whether  In 
dian  or  Mexican,  the  adventurous  hunters  played 
the  leading  part ;  while  close  behind  came  the  swarm 
of  hard,  dogged,  border-farmers, — a  masterful  race, 
good  fighters  and  good  breeders,  as  all  masterful 
races  must  be. 

Very  characteristic  in  its  way  was  the  career  of 
quaint,  honest,  fearless  Davy  Crockett,  the  Tennes 
see  rifleman  and  Whig  Congressman,  perhaps  the 
best  shot  in  all  our  country,  whose  skill  in  the  use 
of  his  favorite  weapon  passed  into  a  proverb,  and 
who  ended  his  days  by  a  hero's  death  in  the  ruins 
of  the  Alamo.  An  even  more  notable  man  was  an- 


The  American  Wilderness  17 

other  mighty  hunter,  Houston,  who  when  a  boy  ran 
away  to  the  Indians;  who  while  still  a  lad  returned 
to  his  own  people  to  serve  under  Andrew  Jackson  in 
the  campaigns  which  that  greatest  of  all  the  back 
woods  leaders  waged  against  the  Creeks,  the  Span 
iards,  and  the  British.  He  was  wounded  at  the 
storming  of  one  of  the  strongholds  of  Red  Eagle's 
doomed  warriors,  and  returned  to  his  Tennessee 
home  to  rise  to  high  civil  honor,  and  become  the 
foremost  man  of  his  State.  Then,  while  Governor 
of  Tennessee,  in  a  sudden  fit  of  moody  anger,  and  of 
mad  longing  for  the  unfettered  life  of  the  wilder 
ness,  he  abandoned  his  office,  his  people,  and  his  race, 
and  fled  to  the  Cherokees  beyond  the  Mississippi. 
For  years  he  lived  as  one  of  their  chiefs ;  until  one 
day,  as  he  lay  in  ignoble  ease  and  sloth,  a  rider  from 
the  south,  from  the  rolling  plains  of  the  San  Antonio 
and  Brazos,  brought  word  that  the  Texans  were  up, 
and  in  doubtful  struggle  striving  to  wrest  their 
freedom  from  the  lancers  and  carbineers  of  Santa 
Anna.  Then  his  dark  soul  flamed  again  into  burn 
ing  life ;  riding  by  night  and  day  he  joined  the  risen 
Texans,  was  hailed  by  them  as  a  heaven-sent  leader, 
and  at  the  San  Jacinto  led  them  on  to  the  overthrow 
of  the  Mexican  host.  Thus  the  stark  hunter,  who 
had  been  alternately  Indian  fighter  and  Indian  chief, 
became  the  President  of  the  new  Republic,  and,  after 
its  admission  into  the  United  States,  a  Senator  at 
Washington ;  and,  to  his  high  honor,  he  remained  to 


1 8  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

the  end  of  his  days  stanchly  loyal  to  the  flag  of  the 
Union. 

By  the  time  that  Crockett  fell,  and  Houston  be 
came  the  darling  leader  of  the  Texans,  the  typical 
hunter  and  Indian  fighter  had  ceased  to  be  a  back 
woodsman;  he  had  become  a  plainsman,  or  moun 
tain-man;  for  the  frontier,  east  of  which  he  never 
willingly  went,  had  been  pushed  beyond  the  Mis 
sissippi.  Restless,  reckless,  and  hardy,  he  spent  years 
of  his  life  in  lonely  wanderings  through  the  Rockies 
as  a  trapper;  he  guarded  the  slowly  moving  cara 
vans,  which  for  purposes  of  trade  journeyed  over 
the  dangerous  Santa  Fe  trail;  he  guided  the  large 
parties  of  frontier  settlers  who,  driving  before  them 
their  cattle,  with  all  their  household  goods  in  their 
white-topped  wagons,  spent  perilous  months  and 
seasons  on  their  weary  way  to  Oregon  or  Califor 
nia.  Joining  in  bands,  the  stalwart,  skin-clad  rifle 
men  waged  ferocious  war  on  the  Indians,  scarcely 
more  savage  than  themselves,  or  made  long  raids 
for  plunder  and  horses  against  the  outlying  Mexican 
settlements.  The  best,  the  bravest,  the  most  modest 
of  them  all  was  the  renowned  Kit  Carson.  He  was 
not  only  a  mighty  hunter,  a  daring  fighter,  a  finder 
of  trails,  and  maker  of  roads  through  the  unknown, 
untrodden  wilderness,  but  also  a  real  leader  of  men. 
Again  and  again  he  crossed  and  recrossed  the  con 
tinent,  from  the  Mississippi  to  the  Pacific ;  he  guided 
many  of  the  earliest  military  and  exploring  expe- 


The  American  Wilderness  19 

ditions  of  the  United  States  Government;  he  him 
self  led  the  troops  in  victorious  campaigns  against 
Apache  and  Navahoe ;  and  in  the  Civil  War  he  was 
made  a  colonel  of  the  Federal  Army. 

After  him  came  many  other  hunters.  Most  were 
pure-blooded  Americans,  but  many  were  Creole 
Frenchmen,  Mexicans,  or  even  members  of  the  so- 
called  civilized  Indian  tribes,  notably  the  Delawares. 
Wide  were  their  wanderings,  many  their  strange 
adventures  in  the  chase,  bitter  their  unending  war 
fare  with  the  red  lords  of  the  land.  Hither  and 
thither  they  roamed,  from  the  desolate,  burning 
deserts  of  the  Colorado  to  the  grassy  plains  of  the 
Upper  Missouri;  from  the  rolling  Texas  prairies, 
bright  beneath  their  sunny  skies,  to  the  high  snow 
peaks  of  the  northern  Rockies,  or  the  giant  pine 
forests,  and  soft  rainy  weather,  of  the  coasts  of 
Puget  Sound.  Their  main  business  was  trapping, 
furs  being  the  only  articles  yielded  by  the  wilderness, 
as  they  knew  it,  which  were  both  valuable  and  port 
able.  These  early  hunters  were  all  trappers  like 
wise,  and,  indeed,  used  their  rifles  only  to  procure 
meat  or  repel  attacks.  The  chief  of  the  fur-bear 
ing  animals  they  followed  was  the  beaver,  which 
abounded  in  the  streams  of  the  plains  and  mountains ; 
in  the  far  north  they  also  trapped  otter,  mink,  sable, 
and  fisher.  They  married  squaws  from  among  the 
Indian  tribes  with  which  they  happened  for  the  mo 
ment  to  be  at  peace;  they  acted  as  scouts  for  the 


20  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

United  States  troops  in  their  campaigns  against  the 
tribes  with  which  they  happened  to  be  at  war. 

Soon  after  the  Civil  War  the  life  of  these  hunters, 
taken  as  a  class,  entered  on  its  final  stage.  The 
Pacific  Coast  was  already  fairly  well  settled,  and 
there  were  few  mining  camps  in  the  Rockies;  but 
most  of  this  Rocky  Mountain  region,  and  the 
entire  stretch  of  plains  country  proper,  the  vast  belt 
of  level  or  rolling  grass  land  lying  between  the  Rio 
Grande  and  the  Saskatchewan,  still  remained  pri 
meval  wilderness,  inhabited  only  by  roving  hunters 
and  formidable  tribes  of  Indian  nomads,  and  by  the 
huge  herds  of  game  on  which  they  preyed.  Beaver 
swarmed  in  the  streams  and  yielded  a  rich  harvest 
to  the  trapper ;  but  trapping  was  no  longer  the  main 
stay  of  the  adventurous  plainsmen.  Foremost 
among  the  beasts  of  the  chase,  on  account  of 
its  numbers,  its  size,  and  its  economic  importance, 
was  the  bison  or  American  buffalo;  its  innumerable 
multitudes  darkened  the  limitless  prairies.  As  the 
transcontinental  railroads  were  pushed  toward  com 
pletion,  and  the  tide  of  settlement  rolled  onward 
with  ever-increasing  rapidity,  buffalo  robes  became 
of  great  value.  The  hunters  forthwith  turned  their 
attention  mainly  to  the  chase  of  the  great  clumsy 
beasts,  slaughtering  them  by  hundreds  of  thousands 
for  their  hides;  sometimes  killing  them  on  horse 
back,  but  more  often  on  foot,  by  still-hunting,  with 
the  heavy  long  range  Sharp's  rifle.  Throughout  the 


The  American  Wilderness  21 

fifteen  years  during  which  this  slaughter  lasted,  a 
succession  of  desperate  wars  was  waged  with  the 
banded  tribes  of  the  Horse  Indians.  All  the  time, 
in  unending  succession,  long  trains  of  big  white- 
topped  wagons  crept  slowly  westward  across  the 
prairies,  marking  the  steady  oncoming  of  the  fron 
tier  settlers. 

By  the  close  of  1883  the  last  buffalo  herd  was  de 
stroyed.  The  beaver  were  trapped  out  of  all  the 
streams,  or  their  numbers  so  thinned  that  it  no 
longer  paid  to  follow  them.  The  last  formidable 
Indian  war  had  been  brought  to  a  successful  close. 
The  flood  of  the  incoming  whites  had  risen  over  the 
land ;  tongues  of  settlement  reached  from  the  Mis 
sissippi  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  from  the 
Rocky  Mountains  to  the  Pacific.  The  frontier  had 
come  to  an  end;  it  had  vanished.  With  it  vanished 
also  the  old  race  of  wilderness  hunters,  the  men  who 
spent  all  their  days  in  the  lonely  wilds,  and  who 
killed  game  as  their  sole  means  of  livelihood.  Great 
stretches  of  wilderness  still  remained  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  here  and  there  in  the  plains  country, 
exactly  as  much  smaller  tracts  of  wild  land  are  to 
be  found  in  the  Alleghanies  and  northern  New  York 
and  New  England;  and  on  these  tracts  occasional 
hunters  and  trappers  still  linger ;  but  as  a  distinctive 
class,  with  a  peculiar  and  important  position  in 
American  life,  they  no  longer  exist. 

There  were  other  men  besides  the  professional 


22  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

hunters,  who  lived  on  the  borders  of  the  wilderness, 
and  followed  hunting,  not  only  as  a  pastime,  but 
also  as  yielding  an  important  portion  of  their  sub 
sistence.  The  frontier  farmers  were  all  hunters. 
In  the  Eastern  backwoods,  and  in  certain  places  in 
the  West,  as  in  Oregon,  these  adventurous  tillers  of 
the  soil  were  the  poineers  among  the  actual  settlers ; 
in  the  Rockies  their  places  were  taken  by  the  miners, 
and  on  the  great  plains  by  the  ranchmen  and  cow 
boys,  the  men  who  lived  in  the  saddle,  guarding 
their  branded  herds  of  horses  and  horned  stock, 
Almost  all  of  the  miners  and  cowboys  were  obliged 
on  occasions  to  turn  hunters. 

Moreover,  the  regular  army  which  played  so  im 
portant  a  part  in  all  the  later  stages  of  the  winning 
of  the  West  produced  its  full  share  of  mighty  hunt 
ers.  The  later  Indian  wars  were  fought  principally 
by  the  regulars.  The  West  Point  officer  and  his 
little  company  of  trained  soldiers  appeared  abreast 
of  the  first  hardy  cattlemen  and  miners.  The 
ordinary  settlers  rarely  made  their  appearance  until 
in  campaign  after  campaign,  always  inconceivably 
wearing  and  harassing,  and  often  very  bloody  in 
character,  the  scarred  and  tattered  troops  had 
broken  and  overthrown  the  most  formidable  among 
the  Indian  tribes.  Faithful,  uncomplaining,  un 
flinching,  the  soldiers  wearing  the  national  uniform 
lived  for  many  weary  years  at  their  lonely  little 
posts,  facing  unending  toil  and  danger  with  quiet 


The  American  Wilderness  23 

endurance,  surrounded  by  the  desolation  of  vast 
solitudes,  and  menaced  by  the  most  merciless  of 
foes.  Hunting  was  followed  not  only  as  a  sport, 
but  also  as  the  only  means  of  keeping  the  posts 
and  the  expeditionary  trains  in  meat.  Many  of  the 
officers  became  equally  proficient  as  marksmen  and 
hunters.  The  three  most  famous  Indian  fighters 
since  the  Civil  War,  Generals  Custer,  Miles,  and 
Crook,  were  all  keen  and  successful  followers  of 
the  chase. 

Of  American  big  game  the  bison,  almost  always 
known  as  the  buffalo,  was  the  largest  and  most  im 
portant  to  man.  When  the  first  white  settlers  landed 
in  Virginia  the  bison  ranged  east  of  the  Alleghanies 
almost  to  the  sea-coast,  westward  to  the  dry  deserts 
lying  beyond  the  Rocky  Mountains,  northward 
to  the  Great  Slave  Lake  and  southward  to  Chihua 
hua.  It  was  a  beast  of  the  forests  and  mountains, 
in  the  Alleghanies  no  less  than  in  the  Rockies; 
but  its  true  home  was  on  the  prairies  and  the 
high  plains.  Across  these  it  roamed,  hither  and 
thither,  in  herds  of  enormous,  of  incredible  magni 
tude;  herds  so  large  that  they  covered  the  waving 
grass  land  for  hundreds  of  square  leagues,  and 
when  on  the  march  occupied  days  and  days  in 
passing  a  given  point.  But  the  seething  myriads  of 
shaggy-maned  wild  cattle  vanished  with  remarkable 
and  melancholy  rapidity  before  the  inroads  of  the 
white  hunters,  and  the  steady  march  of  the  oncom- 


24  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

ing  settlers.  Now  they  are  on  the  point  of  extinc 
tion.  Two  or  three  hundred  are  left  in  that  great 
national  game  preserve,  the  Yellowstone  Park;  and 
it  is  said  that  others  still  remain  in  the  wintry  deso 
lation  of  Athabasca.  Elsewhere  only  a  few  in 
dividuals  exist — probably  considerably  less  than  half 
a  hundred  all  told — scattered  in  small  parties  in 
the  wildest  and  most  remote  and  inaccessible  por 
tions  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  A  bison  bull  is  the 
largest  American  animal.  His  huge  bulk,  his  short, 
curved  black  horns,  the  shaggy  mane  clothing  his 
great  neck  and  shoulders,  give  him  a  look  of  ferocity 
which  his  conduct  belies.  Yet  he  is  truly  a  grand 
and  noble  beast,  and  his  loss  from  our  prairies  and 
forest  is  as  keenly  regretted  by  the  lover  of  nature 
and  of  wild  life  as  by  the  hunter. 

Next  to  the  bison  in  size,  and  much  superior  in 
height  to  it  and  to  all  other  American  game — for  it 
is  taller  than  the  tallest  horse — comes  the  moose, 
or  broad-horned  elk.  It  is  a  strange,  uncouth-look 
ing  beast,  with  very  long  legs,  short  thick  neek,  a 
big,  ungainly  head,  a  swollen  nose,  and  huge  shovel 
horns.  Its  home  is  in  the  cold,  wet  pine  and  spruce 
forests,  which  stretch  from  the  sub-arctic  region  of 
Canada  southward  in  certain  places  across  our  fron 
tier.  Two  centuries  ago  it  was  found  as  far  south 
as  Massachusetts.  It  has  now  been  exterminated 
from  its  former  haunts  in  northern  New  York  and 
Vermont,  and  is  on  the  point  of  vanishing  from 


The  American  Wilderness  25 

northern  Michigan.  It  is  still  found  in  northern 
Maine  and  northeastern  Minnesota  and  in  portions 
of  northern  Idaho  and  Washington ;  while  along  the 
Rockies  it  extends  its  range  southward  through 
western  Montana  to  northwestern  Wyoming, 
south  of  the  Tetons.  In  1884  I  saw  the  fresh 
hide  of  one  that  was  killed  in  the  Bighorn  Moun 
tains. 

The  wapiti,  or  round-horned  elk,  like  the  bison, 
and  unlike  the  moose,  had  its  centre  of  abundance 
in  the  United  States,  though  extending  northward 
into  Canada.  Originally  its  range  reached  from 
ocean  to  ocean  and  it  went  in  herds  of  thousands 
of  individuals;  but  it  has  suffered  more  from  the 
persecution  of  hunters  than  any  other  game  except 
the  bison.  By  the  beginning  of  this  century  it  had 
been  exterminated  in  most  localities  east  of  the  Mis 
sissippi;  but  a  few  lingered  on  for  many  years  in 
the  Alleghanies.  Colonel  Cecil  Clay  informs  me 
that  an  Indian  whom  he  knew  killed  one  in  Pennsyl 
vania  in  1869.  A  very  few  still  exist  here  and  there 
in  northern  Michigan  and  Minnesota,  and  in  one  or 
two  spots  on  the  western  boundary  of  Nebraska  and 
the  Dakotas;  but  it  is  now  properly  a  beast  of  the 
wooded  Western  mountains.  It  is  still  plentiful 
in  western  Colorado,  Wyoming,  and  Montana, 
and  in  parts  of  Idaho,  Washington,  and  Oregon. 
Though  not  as  large  as  the  moose  it  is  the  most 
beautiful  and  stately  of  all  animals  of  the  deer 

2  VOL.  II. 


26  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

kind,  and  its  antlers  are  marvels  of  symmetrical 
grandeur. 

The  woodland  caribou  is  inferior  to  the  wapiti 
both  in  size  and  symmetry.  The  tips  of  the  many 
branches  of  its  long  irregular  antlers  are  slightly 
palmated.  Its  range  is  the  same  as  that  of  the 
moose,  save  that  it  does  not  go  so  far  southward. 
Its  hoofs  are  long  and  round ;  even  larger  than  the 
long,  oval  hoofs  of  the  moose,  and  much  larger  than 
those  of  the  wapiti.  The  tracks  of  all  three  can  be 
told  apart  at  a  glance,  and  can  not  be  mistaken  for 
the  footprints  of  other  game.  Wapiti  tracks,  how 
ever,  look  much  like  those  of  yearling  and  two- 
year-old  cattle,  unless  the  ground  is  steep  or  muddy, 
in  which  case  the  marks  of  the  false  hoofs  appear, 
the  joints  of  wapiti  being  more  flexible  than  those  of 
domestic  stock. 

The  whitetail  deer  is  now,  as  it  always  has  been, 
the  best  known  and  most  abundant  of  American  big 
game,  and  though  its  numbers  have  been  greatly 
thinned  it  is  still  found  in  almost  every  State  of  the 
Union.  The  common  blacktail  or  mule  deer,  which 
has  likewise  been  sadly  thinned  in  numbers,  though 
once  extraordinarily  abundant,  extends  from  the 
great  plains  to  the  Pacific;  but  is  supplanted  on  the 
Puget  Sound  coast  by  the  Columbian  blacktail.  The 
delicate,  heart-shaped  footprints  of  all  three  are 
nearly  indistinguishable;  when  the  animal  is  run 
ning  the  hoof  points  are  of  course  separated.  The 


The  American  Wilderness  27 

track  of  the  antelope  is  more  oval,  growing  squarer 
with  age.  Mountain  sheep  leave  footmarks  of  a 
squarer  shape,  the  points  of  the  hoof  making  little 
indentations  in  the  soil,  well  apart,  even  when  the 
animal  is  only  walking ;  and  a  yearling's  track  is  not 
unlike  that  made  by  a  big  prong-buck  when  striding 
rapidly  with  the  toes  well  apart.  White-goat  tracks 
are  also  square,  and  as  large  as  those  of  the  sheep; 
but  there  is  less  indentation  of  the  hoof  points,  which 
come  nearer  together. 

The  antelope,  or  prong-buck,  was  once  found  in 
abundance  from  the  eastern  edge  of  the  great  plains 
to  the  Pacific,  but  it  has  everywhere  diminished  in 
numbers,  and  has  been  exterminated  along  the  east 
ern  and  western  borders  of  its  former  range.  The 
bighorn,  or  mountain  sheep,  is  found  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains  from  northern  Mexico  to  Alaska ;  and 
in  the  United  States  from  the  Coast  and  Cascade 
ranges  to  the  Bad  Lands  of  the  western  edges  of 
the  Dakotas,  wherever  there  are  mountain  chains  or 
tracts  of  rugged  hills.  It  was  never  very  abundant, 
and,  though  it  has  become  less  so,  it  has  held  its  own 
better  than  most  game.  The  white  goat,  however, 
alone  among  our  game  animals,  has  positively  in 
creased  in  numbers  since  the  advent  of  settlers ;  be 
cause  white  hunters  rarely  follow  it,  and  the  In 
dians  who  once  sought  its  skin  for  robes  now  use 
blankets  instead.  Its  true  home  is  in  Alaska  and 
Canada,  but  it  crosses  our  borders  along  the  lines  of 


28  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

the  Rockies  and  Cascades,  and  a  few  small  isolated 
colonies  are  found  here  and  there  southward  to  Cali 
fornia  and  New  Mexico. 

The  cougar  and  wolf,  once  common  throughout 
the  United  States,  have  now  completely  disappeared 
from  all  save  the  wildest  regions.  The  black  bear 
holds  its  own  better ;  it  was  never  found  on  the  great 
plains.  The  huge  grisly  ranges  from  the  great  plains 
to  the  Pacific.  The  little  peccary  or  Mexican  wild 
hog  merely  crosses  our  southern  border. 

The  finest  hunting  ground  in  America  was,  and 
indeed  is,  the  mountainous  region  of  western  Mon 
tana  and  northwestern  Wyoming.  In  this  high,  cold 
land,  of  lofty  mountains,  deep  forests,  and  open 
prairies,  with  its  beautiful  lakes  and  rapid  rivers,  all 
the  species  of  big  game  mentioned  above,  except 
the  peccary  and  Columbian  blacktail,  are  to  be  found. 
Until  1880  they  were  very  abundant,  and  they  are 
still,  with  the  exception  of  the  bison,  fairly  plentiful. 
On  most  of  the  long  hunting  expeditions  which  I 
made  away  from  my  ranch,  I  went  into  this  region. 

The  bulk  of  my  hunting  has  been  done  in  the  cat 
tle  country,  near  my  ranch  on  the  Little  Missouri, 
and  in  the  adjoining  lands  round  the  lower  Powder 
and  Yellowstone.  Until  1881  the  valley  of  the  Lit 
tle  Missouri  was  fairly  thronged  with  game,  and 
was  absolutely  unchanged  in  any  respect  from  its 
original  condition  of  primeval  wildness.  With  the 
incoming  of  the  stockmen  all  this  changed,  and  the 


The  American  Wilderness  29 

game  was  wofully  slaughtered;  but  plenty  of  deer 
and  antelope,  a  few  sheep  and  bear,  and  an  occa 
sional  elk  are  still  left. 

Since  the  professional  hunters  have  vanished  with 
the  vast  herds  of  game  on  which  they  preyed,  the 
life  of  the  ranchman  is  that  which  yields  most 
chance  of  hunting.  Life  on  a  cattle  ranch,  on  the 
great  plains  or  among  the  foothills  of  the  high  moun 
tains,  has  a  peculiar  attraction  for  those  hardy,  ad 
venturous  spirits  who  take  most  kindly  to  a  vigor 
ous  out-of-door  existence,  and  who  are  therefore 
most  apt  to  care  passionately  for  the  chase  of  big 
game.  The  free  ranchman  lives  in  a  wild,  lonely 
country,  and  exactly  as  he  breaks  and  tames  his  own 
horses,  and  guards  and  tends  his  own  branded  herds, 
so  he  takes  the  keenest  enjoyment  in  the  chase, 
which  is  to  him  not  merely  the  pleasantest  of  sports, 
but  also  a  means  of  adding  materially  to  his  com 
forts,  and  often  his  only  method  of  providing  himself 
with  fresh  meat. 

Hunting  in  the  wilderness  is  of  all  pastimes  the 
most  attractive,  and  it  is  doubly  so  when  not  carried 
on  merely  as  a  pastime.  Shooting  over  a  private 
game  preserve  is  of  course  in  no  way  to  be  compared 
to  it.  The  wilderness  hunter  must  not  only  show 
skill  in  the  use  of  the  rifle  and  address  in  finding  and 
approaching  game,  but  he  must  also  show  the  quali 
ties  of  hardihood,  self-reliance,  and  resolution  needed 
for  effectively  grappling  with  his  wild  surroundings. 


jo  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

The  fact  that  the  hunter  needs  the  game,  both  for 
its  meat  and  for  its  hide,  undoubtedly  adds  a  zest  to 
the  pursuit.  Among  the  hunts  which  I  have  most 
enjoyed  were  those  made  when  I  was  engaged  in  get 
ting  in  the  winter's  stock  of  meat  for  the  ranch,  or 
was  keeping  some  party  of  cowboys  supplied  with 
game  from  day  to  day. 


CHAPTER    II 

HUNTING  FROM  THE  RANCH  ;  THE  BLACKTAIL  DEER 

NO  life  can  be  pleasanter  than  life  during  the 
months  of  fall  on  a  ranch  in  the  northern  cat 
tle  country.  The  weather  is  cool;  in  the  evenings 
and  on  the  rare  rainy  days  we  are  glad  to  sit  by  the 
great  fireplace,  with  its  roaring  cottonwood  logs. 
But  on  most  days  not  a  cloud  dims  the  serene  splen 
dor  of  the  sky;  and  the  fresh  pure  air  is  clear  with 
the  wonderful  clearness  of  the  high  plains.  We  are 
in  the  saddle  from  morning  to  night. 

The  long,  low,  roomy  ranch  house,  of  clean  hewed 
logs,  is  as  comfortable  as  it  is  bare  and  plain.  We 
fare  simply  but  well ;  for  the  wife  of  my  foreman 
makes  excellent  bread  and  cake,  and  there  are  plenty 
of  potatoes,  grown  in  the  forlorn  little  garden-patch 
on  the  bottom.  We  also  have  jellies  and  jams,  made 
from  wild  plums  and  buffalo  berries ;  and  all  the  milk 
we  can  drink.  For  meat  we  depend  on  our  rifles; 
and,  with  an  occasional  interlude  of  ducks  or  prairie 
chickens,  the  mainstay  of  each  meal  is  venison, 
roasted,  broiled,  or  fried. 

Sometimes  we  shoot  the  deer  when  we  happen 

(30 


32  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

on  them  while  about  our  ordinary  business, — indeed 
throughout  the  time  that  I  have  lived  on  the  ranch, 
very  many  of  the  deer  and  antelope  I  killed  were 
thus  obtained.  Of  course  while  doing  the  actual 
round-up  work  it  is  impossible  to  attend  to  anything 
else ;  but  we  generally  carry  rifles  while  riding  after 
the  saddle  band  in  the  early  morning,  while  visiting 
the  line  camps,  or  while  in  the  saddle  among  the 
cattle  on  the  range;  and  get  many  a  shot  in  this 
fashion. 

In  the  fall  of  1890  some  friends  came  to  my  ranch ; 
and  one  day  we  took  them  to  see  a  round-up.  The 
OX,  a  Texan  steer-outfit,  had  sent  a  couple  of  wag 
ons  to  work  down  the  river,  after  beef  cattle,  and 
one  of  my  men  had  gone  along  to  gather  any  of  my 
own  scattered  steers  that  were  ready  for  shipping, 
and  to  brand  the  late  calves.  There  were  perhaps 
a  dozen  riders  with  the  wagons;  and  they  were 
camped  for  the  day  on  a  big  bottom  where  Blacktail 
and  Whitetail  creeks  open  into  the  river,  several 
miles  below  my  ranch. 

At  dawn  one  of  the  men  rode  off  to  bring  in  the 
saddle  band.  The  rest  of  us  were  up  by  sunrise ;  and 
as  we  stood  on  the  veranda  under  the  shimmering 
cottonwood  trees,  reveling  in  the  blue  of  the  cloud 
less  sky,  and  drinking  in  the  cool  air  before  going  to 
breakfast,  we  saw  the  motley-colored  string  of  ponies 
file  down  from  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  and 
splash  across  the  broad,  shallow  ford  in  front  of  the 


Hunting  from  the  Ranch  33 

ranch  house.  Cantering  and  trotting  the  band  swept 
toward  the  high,  round  horse-corral,  in  the  open 
glade  to  the  rear  of  the  house.  Guided  by  the  jut 
ting  wing  which  stuck  out  at  right  angles,  they  en 
tered  the  open  gate,  which  was  promptly  closed  by 
the  cowboy  who  had  driven  them  in. 

After  breakfast  we  strolled  over  to  the  corral, 
with  our  lariats,  and,  standing  by  the  snubbing-post 
in  the  middle,  roped  the  horses  we  wished  for  the 
party — some  that  were  gentle,  and  others  that  were 
not.  Then  every  man  saddled  his  horse ;  and  at  the 
moment  of  mounting  for  the  start  there  was,  as 
always,  a  thrill  of  mild  excitement,  each  rider  hop 
ing  that  his  own  horse  would  not  buck,  and  that  his 
neighbor's  would.  I  had  no  young  horses  on  the 
ranch  at  the  time;  but  a  number  of  the  older  ones 
still  possessed  some  of  the  least  amiable  traits  of 
their  youth. 

Once  in  the  saddle  we  rode  off  down  river,  along 
the  bottoms,  crossing  the  stream  again  and  again. 
We  went  in  Indian  file,  as  is  necessary  among  the 
trees  and  in  broken  ground,  following  the  cattle- 
trails — which  themselves  had  replaced  or  broadened 
the  game  paths  that  alone  crossed  the  plateaus  and 
bottoms  when  my  ranch  house  was  first  built.  Now 
we  crossed  open  reaches  of  coarse  grass,  thinly 
sprinkled  with  large,  brittle  cottonwood  trees,  their 
branches  torn  and  splintered;  now  we  wound  our 
way  through  a  dense  jungle  where  the  gray,  thorny 


34  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

buffalo  bushes,  spangled  with  brilliant  red  berry- 
clusters,  choked  the  spaces  between  the  thick-grow 
ing  box-alders;  and  again  the  sure-footed  ponies 
scrambled  down  one  cut  bank  and  up  another, 
through  seemingly  impossible  rifts,  or  with  gingerly 
footsteps  trod  a  path  which  cut  the  side  of  a  butte 
or  overhung  a  bluff.  Sometimes  we  racked,  or 
shacked  along  at  the  fox  trot  which  is  the  cow-pony's 
ordinary  gait;  and  sometimes  we  loped  or  galloped 
and  ran. 

At  last  we  came  to  the  ford  beyond  which  the 
riders  of  the  round-up  had  made  their  camp.  In  the 
bygone  days  of  the  elk  and  buffalo,  when  our  branded 
cattle  were  first  driven  thus  far  north,  this  ford  had 
been  dangerous  from  quicksand ;  but  the  cattle,  ever 
crossing  and  recrossing,  had  trodden  down  and  set 
tled  the  sand,  and  had  found  out  the  firm  places; 
so  that  it  was  now  easy  to  get  over. 

Close  beyond  the  trees  on  the  further  bank  stood 
the  two  round-up  wagons;  near  by  was  the  cook's 
fire,  in  a  trench,  so  that  it  might  not  spread;  the 
bedding  of  the  riders  and  horse-wranglers  lay  scat 
tered  about,  each  roll  of  blankets  wrapped  and  corded 
in  a  stout  canvas  sheet.  The  cook  was  busy  about 
the  fire;  the  night-wrangler  was  snatching  an  hour 
or  two's  sleep  under  one  of  the  wagons.  Half  a 
mile  away,  on  the  plain  of  sage  brush  and  long  grass, 
the  day-wrangler  was  guarding  the  grazing  or  rest 
ing  horse  herd,  of  over  a  hundred  head.  Still 


Hunting  from  the  Ranch  35 

further  distant,  at  the  mouth  of  a  ravine,  was  the 
day-herd  of  cattle,  two  or  three  cowboys  watching  it 
as  they  lolled  drowsily  in  their  saddles.  The  other 
riders  were  off  on  circles  to  bring  in  cattle  to  the 
round-up;  they  were  expected  every  moment. 

With  the  ready  hospitality  always  shown  in  a  cow- 
camp  we  were  pressed  to  alight  and  take  dinner,  or 
at  least  a  lunch;  and  accordingly  we  jumped  off  our 
horses  and  sat  down.  Our  tin  plates  were  soon 
heaped  with  fresh  beef,  bread,  tomatoes,  rice,  and 
potatoes,  all  very  good ;  for  the  tall,  bearded,  scrawny 
cook  knew  his  work,  and  the  OX  outfit  always  fed 
its  men  well, — and  saw  that  they  worked  well  too. 

Before  noon  the  circle  riders  began  to  appear  on 
the  plain,  coming  out  of  the  ravines,  and  scrambling 
down  the  steep  hills,  singly  or  in  twos  and  threes. 
They  herded  before  them  bunches  of  cattle,  of  vary 
ing  size;  these  were  driven  together  and  left  in 
charge  of  a  couple  of  cow-punchers.  The  other  men 
rode  to  the  wagon  to  get  a  hasty  dinner — lithe, 
sinewy  fellows,  with  weather-roughened  faces  and 
fearless  eyes;  their  broad  felt  hats  flapped  as  they 
galloped,  and  their  spurs  and  bridle  chains  jingled. 
They  rode  well,  with  long  stirrups,  sitting  straight 
in  the  deep  stock  saddles,  and  their  wiry  ponies 
showed  no  signs  of  fatigue  from  the  long  morning's 
ride. 

The  horse-wrangler  soon  drove  the  saddle  band 
to  the  wagons,  where  it  was  caught  in  a  quickly  im- 


36  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

pro  vised  rope-corral.  The  men  roped  fresh  horses, 
fitted  for  the  cutting-work  round  the  herd,  with  its 
attendant  furious  galloping  and  flash-like  turning 
and  twisting.  In  a  few  minutes  all  were  in  the 
saddle  again  and  riding  toward  the  cattle. 

Then  began  that  scene  of  excitement  and  turmoil, 
and  seeming  confusion,  but  real  method  and  order 
liness,  so  familiar  to  all  who  have  engaged  in  stock- 
growing  on  the  great  plains.  The  riders  gathered  in 
a  wide  ring  round  the  herd  of  uneasy  cattle,  and  a 
couple  of  men  rode  into  their  midst  to  cut  out  the 
beef  steers  and  the  cows  that  were  followed  by  un- 
branded  calves.  As  soon  as  the  animal  was  picked 
out  the  cowboy  began  to  drive  it  slowly  toward  the 
outside  of  the  herd,  and  when  it  was  near  the  edge 
he  suddenly  raced  it  into  the  open.  The  beast  would 
then  start  at  full  speed  and  try  to  double  back  among 
its  fellows ;  while  the  trained  cow-pony  followed  like 
a  shadow,  heading  it  off  at  every  turn.  The  riders 
round  that  part  of  the  herd  opened  out  and  the 
chosen  animal  was  speedily  hurried  off  to  some  spot 
a  few  hundred  yards  distant,  where  it  was  left  un 
der  charge  of  another  cowboy.  The  latter  at  first 
had  his  Irands  full  in  preventing  his  charge  from  re 
joining  the  herd;  for  cattle  dread  nothing  so  much 
as  being  separated  from  their  comrades.  However, 
as  soon  as  two  or  three  others  were  driven  out, 
enough  to  form  a  little  bunch,  it  became  a  much 
easier  matter  to  hold  the  "cut,"  as  it  is  called.  The 


Hunting  from  the  Ranch  37 

cows  and  calves  were  put  in  one  place,  the  beeves  in 
another;  the  latter  were  afterward  run  into  the 
day-herd. 

Meanwhile  from  time  to  time  some  clean-limbed 
young  steer  or  heifer,  able  to  run  like  an  antelope 
and  double  like  a  jack-rabbit,  tried  to  break  out  of 
the  herd  that  was  being  worked,  when  the  nearest 
cowboy  hurried  in  pursuit  at  top  speed  and  brought 
it  back,  after  a  headlong,  break-neck  race,  in  which 
no  heed  was  paid  to  brush,  fallen  timber,  prairie-dog 
holes,  or  cut  banks.  The  dust  rose  in  little  whirling 
clouds,  and  through  it  dashed  bolting  cattle  and  gal 
loping  cowboys,  hither  and  thither,  while  the  air  was 
filled  with  the  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  men,  and 
the  bellowing  of  the  herd. 

As  soon  as  the  herd  was  worked  it  was  turned 
loose,  while  the  cows  and  calves  were  driven  over 
to  a  large  corral,  where  the  branding  was  done. 
A  fire  was  speedily  kindled,  and  in  it  were  laid  the 
branding  irons  of  the  different  outfits  represented  on 
the  round-up.  Then  two  of  the  best  ropers  rode  into 
the  corral  and  began  to  rope  the  calves,  round  the 
hind  legs  by  preference,  but  sometimes  round  the 
head.  The  other  men  dismounted  to  "wrestle"  and 
brand  them.  Once  roped,  the  calf,  bawling  and 
struggling1,  was  swiftly  dragged  near  the  fire,  where 
one  or  two  of  the  calf-wrestlers  grappled  with  and 
threw  the  kicking,  plunging  little  beast,  and  held 
it  while  it  was  branded.  If  the  calf  was  large  the 


38  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

wrestlers  had  hard  work;  and  one  or  two  young 
maverick  bulls — that  is,  unbranded  yearling  bulls, 
which  had  been  passed  by  in  the  round-ups  of  the 
preceding  year — fought  viciously,  bellowing  and 
charging,  and  driving  some  of  the  men  up  the 
sides  of  the  corral,  to  the  boisterous  delight  of  the 
others. 

After  watching  the  work  for  a  little  while  we  left 
and  rode  homeward.  Instead  of  going  along  the 
river  bottoms  we  struck  back  over  the  buttes.  From 
time  to  time  we  came  out  on  some  sharp  bluff  over 
looking  the  river.  From  these  points  of  vantage  we 
could  see  for  several  miles  up  and  down  the  valley 
of  the  Little  Missouri.  The  level  bottoms  were 
walled  in  by  rows  of  sheer  cliffs,  and  steep,  grassy 
slopes.  These  bluff  lines  were  from  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  to  a  mile  apart;  they  did  not  run  straight, 
but  in  a  succession  of  curves,  so  as  to  look  like  the 
halves  of  many  amphitheatres.  Between  them  the 
river  swept  in  great  bends  from  side  to  side;  the 
wide  bed,  brimful  during  the  time  of  freshets,  now 
held  but  a  thin  stream  of  water.  Some  of  the  bot 
toms  were  covered  only  with  grass  and  sage  brush; 
others  were  a  dense  jungle  of  trees;  while  yet  others 
looked  like  parks,  the  cottonwoods  growing  in 
curved  lines  or  in  clumps  scattered  here  and  there. 

On  our  way  we  came  across  a  bunch  of  cattle, 
among  which  the  sharp  eyes  of  my  foreman  detected 
a  maverick  two-year-old  heifer.  He  and  one  of  the 


Hunting  from  the  Ranch  39 

cowboys  at  once  got  down  their  ropes  and  rode 
after  her ;  the  rest  of  us  first  rounding  up  the  bunch 
so  as  to  give  a  fair  start.  After  a  sharp  run  one 
of  the  men,  swinging  his  lariat  round  his  head, 
got  close  up;  in  a  second  or  two  the  noose  settled 
round  the  heifer's  neck,  and  as  it  became  taut  she 
was  brought  to  with  a  jerk;  immediately  after 
ward  the  other  man  made  his  throw  and  cleverly 
heeled  her.  In  a  trice  the  red  heifer  was  stretched 
helpless  on  the  ground,  the  two  fierce  little  ponies, 
a  pinto  and  a  buckskin,  keeping  her  down  on  their 
own  account,  tossing  their  heads  and  backing  so  that 
the  ropes  which  led  from  the  saddle-horns  to  her 
head  and  hind  feet  never  slackened.  Then  we 
kindled  a  fire;  one  of  the  cinch  rings  was  taken  off 
to  serve  as  a  branding  iron,  and  the  heifer  speedily 
became  our  property — for  she  was  on  our  range. 

When  we  reached  the  ranch  it  was  still  early,  and 
after  finishing  dinner  it  lacked  over  an  hour  of 
sundown.  Accordingly  we  went  for  another  ride; 
and  I  carried  my  rifle.  We  started  up  a  winding 
coulie  which  opened  back  of  the  ranch  house;  and 
after  half  an  hour's  canter  clambered  up  the  steep 
head-ravines,  and  emerged  on  a  high  ridge  which 
went  westward,  straight  as  an  arrow,  to  the  main 
divide  between  the  Little  Missouri  and  the  Big 
Beaver.  Along  this  narrow,  grassy  crest  we  loped 
and  galloped;  we  were  so  high  that  we  could  look 
far  and  wide  over  all  the  country  round  about.  To 


40  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

the  southward,  across  a  dozen  leagues  of  rolling 
and  broken  prairie,  loomed  Sentinel  Butte,  the  chief 
landmark  of  all  that  region.  Behind  us,  beyond  the 
river,  rose  the  weird  chaos  of  Bad  Lands  which  at 
this  point  lie  for  many  miles  east  of  the  Little 
Missouri.  Their  fantastic  outlines  were  marked 
against  the  sky  as  sharply  as  if  cut  with  a  knife; 
their  grim  and  forbidding  desolation  warmed  into 
wonderful  beauty  by  the  light  of  the  dying  sun. 
On  our  right,  as  we  loped  onward,  the  land  sunk 
away  in  smooth  green-clad  slopes  and  valleys;  on 
our  left  it  fell  in  sheer  walls.  Ahead  of  us  the  sun 
was  sinking  behind  a  mass  of  blood-red  clouds ;  and 
on  either  hand  the  flushed  skies  were  changing  their 
tint  to  a  hundred  hues  of  opal  and  amethyst.  Our 
tireless  little  horses  sprang  under  us,  thrilling  with 
life;  we  were  riding  through  a  fairy  world  of  beauty 
and  color  and  limitless  space  and  freedom. 

Suddenly  a  short  hundred  yards  in  front  three 
blacktail  leaped  out  of  a  little  glen  and  crossed  our 
path,  with  the  peculiar  bounding  gait  of  their  kind. 
At  once  I  sprang  from  my  horse  and,  kneeling,  fired 
at  the  last  and  largest  of  the  three.  My  bullet  sped 
too  far  back,  but  struck  near  the  hip  and  the  crippled 
deer  went  slowly  down  a  ravine.  Running  over 
a  hillock  to  cut  it  off,  I  found  it  in  some  brush  a 
few  hundred  yards  beyond  and  finished  it  with  a 
second  ball.  Quickly  dressing  it,  I  packed  it  on  my 
horse,  and  trotted  back  leading  him;  an  hour  after- 


Hunting  from  the  Ranch  41 

ward   saw   through   the  waning  light  the  quaint, 
home-like  outlines  of  the  ranch  house. 

After  all,  however,  blacktail  can  only  at  times 
be  picked  up  by  chance  in  this  way.  More  often 
it  is  needful  to  kill  them  by  fair  still-hunting,  among 
the  hills  or  wooded  mountains  where  they  delight 
to  dwell.  If  hunted  they  speedily  become  wary. 
By  choice  they  live  in  such  broken  country  that  it 
is  difficult  to  pursue  them  with  hounds;  and  they 
are  by  no  means  such  water-loving  animals  as 
whitetail.  On  the  other  hand,  the  land  in  which  they 
dwell  is  very  favorable  to  the  still-hunter  who  does 
not  rely  merely  on  stealth,  but  who  can  walk  and 
shoot  well.  They  do  not  go  on  the  open  prairie, 
and,  if  possible,  they  avoid  deep  forests,  while, 
being  good  climbers,  they  like  hills.  In  the  moun 
tains,  therefore,  they  keep  to  what  is  called  park 
country,  where  glades  alternate  with  open  groves. 
On  the  great  plains  they  avoid  both  the  heavily  tim 
bered  river  bottoms  and  the  vast  treeless  stretches 
of  level  or  rolling  grass  land;  their  chosen  abode 
being  the  broken  and  hilly  region,  scantily  wooded, 
which  skirts  almost  every  plains  river  and  forms  a 
belt,  sometimes  very  narrow,  sometimes  many  miles 
in  breadth,  between  the  alluvial  bottom  land  and 
the  prairies  beyond.  In  these  Bad  Lands  dwarfed 
pines  and  cedars  grow  in  the  canyon-like  ravines  and 
among  the  high  steep  hills;  there  are  also  basins 
and  winding  coulies,  filled  with  brush  and  shrubbery 


42  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

and  small  elm  or  ash.  In  all  such  places  the  black- 
tail  loves  to  make  its  home. 

I  have  not  often  hunted  blacktail  in  the  moun 
tains,  because  while  there  I  was  generally  after 
larger  game;  but  round  my  ranch  I  have  killed 
more  of  them  than  of  any  other  game,  and  for  me 
their  chase  has  always  possessed  a  peculiar  charm. 
We  hunt  them  in  the  loveliest  season  of  the  year, 
the  fall  and  early  winter,  when  it  is  keen  pleasure 
merely  to  live  out-of-doors.  Sometimes  we  make 
a  regular  trip,  of  several  days'  duration,  taking 
the  ranch  wagon,  with  or  without  a  tent,  to  some 
rugged  little  disturbed  spot  where  the  deer  are 
plenty;  perhaps  returning  with  eight  or  ten  car 
casses,  or  even  more — enough  to  last  a  long  while 
in  cold  weather.  We  often  make  such  trips  while 
laying  in  our  winter  supply  of  meat. 

At  other  times  we  hunt  directly  from  the  ranch 
house.  We  catch  our  horses  over  night,  and  are  in 
the  saddle  for  an  all-day's  hunt  long  before  the 
first  streak  of  dawn,  possibly  not  returning  until 
some  hours  after  nightfall.  The  early  morning  and 
late  evening  are  the  best  time  for  hunting  game, 
except  in  regions  where  it  is  hardly  ever  molested, 
and  where  in  consequence  it  moves  about  more  or 
less  throughout  the  day. 

During  the  rut,  which  begins  in  September,  the 
deer  are  in  constant  motion,  and  are  often  found 
in  bands.  The  necks  of  the  bucks  swell  and  their 


Hunting  from  the  Ranch  43 

sides  grow  gaunt;  they  chase  the  does  all  night, 
and  their  flesh  becomes  strong  and  stringy — far 
inferior  to  that  of  the  barren  does  and  yearlings. 
The  old  bucks  then  wage  desperate  conflicts  with 
one  another,  and  bully  their  smaller  brethren  un 
mercifully.  Unlike  the  elk,  the  blacktail,  like  the 
whitetail,  are  generally  silent  in  the  rutting  season. 
They  occasionally  grunt  when  righting;  and  once, 
on  a  fall  evening,  I  heard  two  young  bucks  barking 
in  a  ravine  back  of  my  ranch  house,  and  crept  up  and 
shot  them;  but  this  was  a  wholly  exceptional  in 
stance. 

At  this  time  I  hunt  on  foot,  only  using  the  horse 
to  carry  me  to  and  from  the  hunting-ground;  for 
while  rutting,  the  deer,  being  restless,  do  not  try 
to  escape  observation  by  lying  still,  and  on  the 
other  hand  are  apt  to  wander  about  and  so  are 
easily  seen  from  a  distance.  When  I  have  reached  a 
favorable  place  I  picket  my  horse  and  go  from  van 
tage  point  to  vantage  point,  carefully  scanning  the 
hillsides,  ravines,  and  brush  coulies  from  every  spot 
that  affords  a  wide  outlook.  The  quarry  once  seen 
it  may  be  a  matter  of  hours,  or  only  of  minutes,  to 
approach  it,  according  as  the  wind  and  cover  are 
or  are  not  favorable.  The  walks  for  many  miles 
over  the  hills,  the  exercise  of  constant  watchfulness, 
the  excitement  of  the  actual  stalk,  and  the  still 
greater  excitement  of  the  shot,  combine  to  make 
still-hunting  the  blacktail,  in  the  sharp  fall  weather, 


44  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

one  of  the  most  attractive  of  hardy  outdoor  sports. 
Then  after  the  long,  stumbling  walk  homeward, 
through  the  cool  gloom  of  the  late  evening,  comes 
the  meal  of  smoking  venison  and  milk  and  bread, 
and  the  sleepy  rest,  lying  on  the  deer-skins,  or  sit 
ting  in  the  rocking  chair  before  the  roaring  fire, 
while  the  icy  wind  moans  outside. 

Earlier  in  the  season,  while  the  does  are  still  nurs 
ing  the  fawns,  and  until  the  bucks  have  cleaned  the 
last  vestiges  of  velvet  from  their  antlers,  the  deer  lie 
very  close,  and  wander  round  as  little  as  may  be. 
In  the  spring  and  early  summer,  in  the  ranch  coun 
try,  we  hunt  big  game  very  little,  and  then  only  ante 
lope  ;  because  in  hunting  antelope  there  is  no  danger 
of  killing  aught  but  bucks.  About  the  first  of  Au 
gust  we  begin  to  hunt  blacktail,  but  do  not  kill  does 
until  a  month  later — and  then  only  when  short  of 
meat.  In  the  early  weeks  of  the  deer  season  we  fre 
quently  do  even  the  actual  hunting  on  horseback  in 
stead  of  on  foot ;  because  the  deer  at  this  time  rarely 
appear  in  view,  so  as  to  afford  chance  for  a  stalk, 
and  yet  are  reluctant  to  break  cover  until  very  closely 
approached.  In  consequence  we  keep  on  our  horses, 
and  so  get  over  much  more  ground  than  on  foot, 
beating  through  or  beside  all  likely-looking  cover, 
with  the  object  of  jumping  the  deer  close  by.  Un 
der  such  circumstances  bucks  sometimes  lie  until  al 
most  trodden  on. 

One  afternoon  in  mid-August,  when  the  ranch  was 


Hunting  from  the  Ranch  45 

entirely  out  of  meat,  I  started  with  one  of  my  cow 
hands,  Merrifield,  to  kill  a  deer.  We  were  on  a 
couple  of  stout,  quiet  ponies,  accustomed  to  firing 
and  to  packing  game.  After  riding  a  mile  or  two 
down  the  bottoms  we  left  the  river  and  struck  off 
up  a  winding  valley,  which  led  back  among  the  hills. 
In  a  short  while  we  were  in  a  blacktail  country,  and 
began  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  game,  riding  par 
allel  to,  but  some  little  distance  from,  one  another. 
The  sun,  beating  down  through  the  clear  air,  was 
very  hot;  the  brown  slopes  of  short  grass,  and  still 
more,  the  white  clay  walls  of  the  Bad  Lands,  threw 
the  heat  rays  in  our  faces.  We  skirted  closely  all 
likely-looking  spots,  such  as  the  heavy  brush-patches 
in  the  bottoms  of  the  winding  valleys,  and  the  groves 
of  ash  and  elm  in  the  basins  and  pockets  flanking  the 
high  plateaus;  sometimes  we  followed  a  cattle  trail 
which  ran  down  the  middle  of  a  big  washout,  and 
again  we  rode  along  the  brink  of  a  deep  cedar  can 
yon.  After  a  while  we  came  to  a  coulie  with  a  small 
muddy  pool  at  its  mouth ;  and  round  this  pool  there 
was  much  fresh  deer  sign.  The  coulie  was  but  half 
a  mile  long,  heading  into  and  flanked  by  the  spurs 
of  some  steep,  bare  hills.  Its  bottom,  which  was 
fifty  yards  or  so  across,  was  choked  by  a  dense 
growth  of  brush,  chiefly  thorny  bullberries,  while 
the  sides  were  formed  by  cut  banks  twelve  or  fifteen 
feet  high.  My  companion  rode  up  the  middle,  while 
I  scrambled  up  one  of  the  banks,  and,  dismounting, 


46  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

led  my  horse  along  its  edge,  that  I  might  have  a  clear 
shot  at  whatever  we  roused.  We  went  nearly  to  the 
head,  and  then  the  cowboy  reined  up  and  shouted 
to  me  that  he  "guessed  there  were  no  deer  in  the 
coulie."  Instantly  there  was  a  smashing  in  the 
young  trees  midway  between  us,  and  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  blacktail  buck  speeding  round  a  shoul 
der  of  the  cut  bank:  and  though  I  took  a  hurried 
shot  I  missed.  However,  another  buck  promptly 
jumped  up  from  the  same  place;  evidently  the  two 
had  lain  secure  in  their  day-beds,  shielded  by  the 
dense  cover,  while  the  cowboy  rode  by  them,  and  had 
only  risen  when  he  halted  and  began  to  call  to  me 
across  them.  This  second  buck,  a  fine  fellow  with 
big  antlers  not  yet  clear  of  velvet,  luckily  ran  up 
the  opposite  bank,  and  I  got  a  fair  shot  at  him  as  he 
galloped  broadside  to  me  along  the  open  hillside. 
When  I  fired  he  rolled  over  with  a  broken  back.  As 
we  came  up  he  bleated  loudly,  an  unusual  thing  for 
a  buck  to  do. 

Now,  these  two  bucks  must  have  heard  us  com 
ing,  but  reckoned  on  our  passing  them  by  without 
seeing  them;  which  we  would  have  done  had  they 
not  been  startled  when  the  cowboy  halted  and  spoke. 
Later  in  the  season  they  would  probably  not  have 
let  us  approach  them,  but  would  have  run  as  soon  as 
they  knew  of  our  presence.  Of  course,  however, 
even  later  in  the  season,  a  man  may  by  chance  stum 
ble  across  a  deer  close  by.  I  remember  one  occa- 


Hunting  from  the  Ranch  47 

sion  when  my  ranch  partner,  Robert  Munro  Fergu 
son,  and  I  almost  corraled  an  unlucky  deer  in  a 
small  washout. 

It  was  October,  and  our  meat  supply  unexpectedly 
gave  out;  on  our  ranch,  as  on  most  ranches,  an  oc 
casional  meat  famine  of  three  or  four  days  inter 
venes  between  the  periods  of  plenty.  So  Ferguson 
and  I  started  together,  to  get  venison;  and  at  the 
end  of  two  days'  hard  work,  leaving  the  ranch  by 
sunrise,  riding  to  the  hunting  grounds  and  tramp 
ing  steadily  until  dark,  we  succeeded.  The  weather 
was  stormy  and  there  were  continual  gusts  of  wind 
and  of  cold  rain,  sleet,  or  snow.  We  hunted  through 
a  large  tract  of  rough  and  broken  country,  six  or 
eight  miles  from  the  ranch.  As  often  happens  in 
such  wild  weather  the  deer  were  wild  too ;  they  were 
watchful  and  were  on  the  move  all  the  time.  We 
saw  a  number,  but  either  they  ran  off  before  we 
could  get  a  shot,  or  if  we  did  fire  it  was  at  such  a 
distance  or  under  such  unfavorable  circumstances 
that  we  missed.  At  last,  as  we  were  plodding  drear 
ily  up  a  bare  valley,  the  sodden  mud  caking  round 
our  shoes,  we  roused  three  deer  from  the  mouth  of 
a  short  washout  but  a  few  paces  from  us.  Two 
bounded  off;  the  third  by  mistake  rushed  into  the 
washout,  where  he  found  himself  in  a  regular 
trap  and  was  promptly  shot  by  my  companion. 
We  slung  the  carcass  on  a  pole  and  carried  it 
down  to  where  we  had  left  the  horses;  and  then 


48  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

we  loped  homeward,  bending  to  the  cold,  slanting 
rain. 

Although  in  places  where  it  is  much  persecuted 
the  blacktail  is  a  shy  and  wary  beast,  the  successful 
pursuit  of  which  taxes  to  the  uttermost  the  skill  and 
energy  of  the  hunter,  yet,  like  the  elk,  if  little  mo 
lested  it  often  shows  astonishing  tameness  and  even 
stupidity.  In  the  Rockies  I  have  sometimes  come 
on  blacktail  within  a  very  short  distance,  which 
would  merely  stare  at  me,  then  trot  off  a  few  yards, 
turn  and  stare  again,  and  wait  for  several  minutes 
before  really  taking  alarm.  What  is  much  more  ex 
traordinary,  I  have  had  the  same  thing  happen  to 
me  in  certain  little  hunted  localities  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  my  ranch,  even  of  recent  years.  In  the  fall 
of  1890,  I  was  riding  down  a  canyon-coulie  with 
my  foreman,  Sylvane  Ferris,  and  a  young  friend 
from  Boston,  when  we  almost  rode  over  a  barren 
blacktail  doe.  She  only  ran  some  fifty  yards,  round 
a  corner  of  the  coulie,  and  then  turned  and  stood 
until  we  ran  forward  and  killed  her — for  we  were 
in  need  of  fresh  meat.  One  October,  a  couple  of 
years  before  this,  my  cousin,  West  Roosevelt,  and 
I  took  a  trip  with  the  wagon  to  a  very  wild  and 
rugged  country,  some  twenty  miles  from  the  ranch. 
We  found  that  the  deer  had  evidently  been  but  little 
disturbed.  One  day  while  scrambling  down  a  steep, 
brushy  hill,  leading  my  horse,  I  came  close  on  a  doe 
and  fawn;  they  merely  looked  at  me  with  curiosity 


Hunting  from  the  Ranch  49 

for  some  time,  and  then  sauntered  slowly  off,  re 
maining  within  shot  for  at  least  five  minutes.  For 
tunately  we  had  plenty  of  meat  at  the  time,  and 
there  was  no  necessity  to  harm  the  graceful  crea 
tures.  A  few  days  later  we  came  on  two  bucks 
sunning  themselves  in  the  bottom  of  a  valley.  My 
companion  killed  one.  The  other  was  lying  but  a 
dozen  rods  off;  yet  it  never  moved,  until  several 
shots  had  been  fired  at  the  first.  It  was  directly  un 
der  me,  and,  in  my  anxiety  to  avoid  overshooting, 
to  my  horror  I  committed  the  opposite  fault,  and 
away  went  the  buck. 

Every  now  and  then  any  one  will  make  most  un 
accountable  misses.  A  few  days  after  thus  losing 
the  buck  I  spent  nearly  twenty  cartridges  in  butcher 
ing  an  unfortunate  yearling,  and  only  killed  it  at  all 
because  it  became  so  bewildered  by  the  firing  that 
it  hardly  tried  to  escape.  I  never  could  tell  why  I 
used  so  many  cartridges  to  such  little  purpose.  Dur 
ing  the  next  fortnight  I  killed  seven  deer  without 
making  a  single  miss,  though  some  of  the  shots  were 
rather  difficult. 


VOL.  II. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE  WHITETAIL  DEER  ;  AND  THE  BLACKTAIL  OF  THE 
COLUMBIA 

THE  whitetail  deer  is  much  the  commonest  game 
animal  of  the  United  States,  being  still  found, 
though  generally  in  greatly  diminished  numbers, 
throughout  most  of  the  Union.  It  is  a  shrewd, 
wary,  knowing  beast;  but  it  owes  its  prolonged  stay 
in  the  land  chiefly  to  the  fact  that  it  is  an  inveter 
ate  skulker,  and  fond  of  the  thickest  cover.  Ac 
cordingly  it  usually  has  to  be  killed  by  stealth  and 
stratagem,  and  not  by  fair,  manly  hunting;  being 
quite  easily  slain  in  any  one  of  half  a  dozen  un 
sportsmanlike  ways.  In  consequence  I  care  less  for 
its  chase  than  for  the  chase  of  any  other  kind  of 
American  big  game.  Yet  in  the  few  places  where 
it  dwells  in  open,  hilly  forests  and  can  be  killed  by 
still-hunting  as  if  it  were  a  blacktail ;  or,  better  still, 
where  the  nature  of  the  ground  is  such  that  it  can 
be  run  down  in  fair  chase  on  horseback,  either  with 
greyhounds,  or  with  a  pack  of  trackhounds,  it  yields 
splendid  sport. 

Killing  a  deer  from  a  boat  while  the  poor  animal 
is  swimming  in  the  water,  or  on  snowshoes  as  it 
flounders  helplessly  in  the  deep  drifts,  can  only  be 

(50) 


The  Whitetail   Deer  51 

justified  on  the  plea  of  hunger.  This  is  also  true  of 
lying  in  wait  at  a  lick.  Whoever  indulges  in  any  of 
these  methods,  save  from  necessity,  is  a  butcher  pure 
and  simple,  and  has  no  business  in  the  company  of 
true  sportsmen. 

Fire  hunting  may  be  placed  in  the  same  category; 
yet  it  is  possibly  allowable  under  exceptional  cir 
cumstances  to  indulge  in  a  fire  hunt,  if  only  for  the 
sake  of  seeing  the  wilderness  by  torchlight.  My 
first  attempt  at  big-game  shooting,  when  a  boy,  was 
"jacking"  for  deer  in  the  Adirondacks,  on  a  pond  or 
small  lake  surrounded  by  the  grand  northern  forests 
of  birch  and  beech,  pine,  spruce,  and  fir.  I  killed  a 
spike  buck;  and  while  I  have  never  been  willing  to 
kill  another  in  this  manner,  I  can  not  say  that  I  re 
gret  having  once  had  the  experience.  The  ride  over 
the  glassy,  black  water,  the  witchcraft  of  such  silent 
progress  through  the  mystery  of  the  night,  can  not 
but  impress  one.  There  is  pleasure  in  the  mere 
buoyant  gliding  of  the  birch-bark  canoe,  with  its 
curved  bow  and  stern;  nothing  else  that  floats  pos 
sesses  such  grace,  such  frail  and  delicate  beauty,  as 
this  true  craft  of  the  wilderness,  which  is  as  much 
a  creature  of  the  wild  woods  as  the  deer  and  bear 
themselves.  The  light  streaming  from  the  bark 
lantern  in  the  bow  cuts  a  glaring  lane  through  the 
gloom ;  in  it  all  objects  stand  out  like  magic,  shining 
for  a  moment  white  and  ghastly  and  then  vanishing 
into  the  impenetrable  darkness;  while  all  the  time 


$i  The  Wilderness   Hunter 

the  paddler  in  the  stern  makes  not  so  much  as  a  rip 
ple,  and  there  is  never  a  sound  but  the  occasional 
splash  of  a  muskrat,  or  the  moaning  uloo-oo — uloo- 
uloo  of  an  owl  from  the  deep  forests;  and  at  last 
perchance  the  excitement  of  a  shot  at  a  buck,  stand 
ing  at  gaze,  with  luminous  eyeballs. 

The  most  common  method  of  killing  the  white- 
tail  is  by  hounding;  that  is,  by  driving  it  with 
hounds  past  runways  where  hunters  are  stationed 
— for  all  wild  animals  when  on  the  move  prefer  to 
follow  certain  definite  routes.  This  is  a  legitimate, 
but  inferior,  kind  of  sport. 

However,  even  killing  driven  deer  may  be  good 
fun  at  certain  times.  Most  of  the  whitetail  we  kill 
round  the  ranch  are  obtained  in  this  fashion.  On  the 
Little  Missouri — as  throughout  the  plains  countiy 
generally — these  deer  cling  to  the  big  \vooded  river 
bottoms,  while  the  blacktail  are  found  in  the  broken 
country  back  from  the  river.  The  tangled  mass  of 
cotton  woods,  box-alders,  and  thorny  bullberry  bushes 
which  cover  the  bottoms  afford  the  deer  a  nearly  se 
cure  shelter  from  the  still-hunter;  and  it  is  only  by 
the  aid  of  hounds  that  they  can  be  driven  from  their 
wooded  fastnesses.  They  hold  their  own  better  than 
any  other  game.  The  great  herds  of  buffalo,  and 
the  bands  of  elk,  have  vanished  completely;  the 
swarms  of  antelope  and  blacktail  have  been  wofully 
thinned;  but  the  whitetail,  which  were  never  found 
in  such  throngs  as  either  buffalo  or  elk,  blacktail  or 


The  Whitetail  Deer  53 

antelope,  have  suffered  far  less  from  the  advent  of 
the  white  hunters,  ranchmen,  and  settlers.  They 
are  of  course  not  as  plentiful  as  formerly ;  but  some 
are  still  to  be  found  in  almost  all  their  old  haunts. 
Where  the  river,  winding  between  rows  of  high 
buttes,  passes  my  ranch  house,  there  is  a  long  suc 
cession  of  heavily  wooded  bottoms;  and  on  all  of 
these,  even  on  the  one  wThereon  the  house  itself 
stands,  there  are  a  good  many  whitetail  yet  left. 

When  we  take  a  day's  regular  hunt  we  usually 
wander  afar,  either  to  the  hills  after  blacktail  or  to 
the  open  prairie  after  antelope.  But  if  we  are  short 
of  meat,  and  yet  have  no  time  for  a  regular  hunt, 
being  perhaps  able  to  spare  only  a  couple  of  hours 
after  the  day's  work  is  over,  then  all  hands  turn 
out  to  drive  a  bottom  for  whitetail.  We  usually 
have  one  or  two  trackhounds  at  the  ranch;  true 
Southern  deerhounds,  black  and  tan,  with  lop  ears 
and  hanging  lips,  their  wrinkled  faces  stamped  with 
an  expression  of  almost  ludicrous  melancholy.  They 
are  not  fast,  and  have  none  of  the  alert  look  of  the 
pied  and  spotted  modern  foxhound;  but  their  noses 
are  very  keen,  their  voices  deep  and  mellow,  and 
they  are  wonderfully  stanch  on  a  trail. 

All  is  bustle  and  laughter  as  we  start  on  such  a 
hunt.  The  baying  hounds  bound  about,  as  the  rifles 
are  taken  down;  the  wiry  ponies  are  roped  out  of 
the  corral,  and  each  broad-hatted  hunter  swings  joy 
fully  into  the  saddle.  If  the  pony  bucks  or  "acts 


54  The  Wilderness   Hunter 

mean"  the  rider  finds  that  his  rifle  adds  a  new  ele 
ment  of  interest  to  the  performance,  which  is  of 
course  hailed  with  loud  delight  by  all  the  men  on 
quiet  horses.  Then  we  splash  off  over  the  river, 
scramble  across  the  faces  of  the  bluffs,  or  canter 
along  the  winding  cattle  paths,  through  the  woods, 
until  we  come  to  the  bottom  we  intend  to  hunt. 
Here  a  hunter  is  stationed  at  each  runway  along 
which  it  is  deemed  likely  that  the  deer  will  pass; 
and  one  man,  who  has  remained  on  horseback,  starts 
into  the  cover  with  the  hounds;  occasionally  this 
horseman  himself,  skilled,  as  most  cowboys  are,  in 
the  use  of  the  revolver,  gets  a  chance  to  kill  a  deer. 
The  deep  baying  of  the  hounds  speedily  gives  warn 
ing  that  the  game  is  afoot ;  and  the  watching  hunt 
ers,  who  have  already  hid  their  horses  carefully,  look 
to  their  rifles.  Sometimes  the  deer  comes  far  ahead 
of  the  dogs,  running  very  swiftly  with  neck  stretched 
straight  out;  and  if  the  cover  is  thick  such  an  ani 
mal  is  hard  to  hit.  At  other  times,  especially  if 
the  quarry  is  a  young  buck,  it  plays  along  not  very 
far  ahead  of  its  baying  pursuers,  bounding  and  strut 
ting  with  head  up  and  white  flag  flaunting.  If  struck 
hard,  down  goes  the  flag  at  once,  and  the  deer 
plunges  into  a  staggering  run,  while  the  hounds  yell 
with  eager  ferocity  as  they  follow  the  bloody  trail. 
Usually  we  do  not  have  to  drive  more  than  one  or 
two  bottoms  before  getting  a  deer,  which  is  forth 
with  packed  behind  one  of  the  riders,  as  the  distance 


The  Whitetail  Deer  55 

is  not  great,  and  home  we  come  in  triumph.  Some 
times,  however,  we  fail  to  find  game,  or  the  deer  take 
unguarded  passes,  or  the  shot  is  missed.  Occa 
sionally  I  have  killed  deer  on  these  hunts;  generally 
I  have  merely  sat  still  a  long  while,  listened  to  the 
hounds,  and  at  last  heard  somebody  else  shoot.  In 
fact  such  hunting,  though  good  enough  fun  if  only 
tried  rarely,  would  speedily  pall  if  followed  at  all 
regularly. 

Personally  the  chief  excitement  I  have  had  in 
connection  therewith  has  arisen  from  some  antic  of 
my  horse;  a  half-broken  bronco  is  apt  to  become 
unnerved  when  a  man  with  a  gun  tries  to  climb  on 
him  in  a  hurry.  On  one  hunt  in  1890  I  rode  a  wild 
animal  named  Whitefoot.  He  had  been  a  confirmed 
and  very  bad  bucker  three  years  before,  when  I  had 
him  in  my  string  on  the  round-up;  but  had  grown 
quieter  with  years.  Nevertheless  I  found  he  had 
some  fire  left;  for  a  hasty  vault  into  the  saddle  on 
my  part  was  followed  on  his  by  some  very  resolute 
pitching.  I  lost  my  rifle  and  hat,  and  my  revolver 
and  knife  were  bucked  out  of  my  belt;  but  I  kept 
my  seat  all  right,  and  finally  got  his  head  up  and 
mastered  him  without  letting  him  throw  himself 
over  backward,  a  trick  he  sometimes  practiced. 
Nevertheless,  in  the  first  jump  when  I  was  taken 
unawares,  I  strained  myself  across  the  loins,  and  did 
not  get  entirely  over  it  for  six  months. 

To  shoot  running  game  with  the  rifle  it  is  always 


56  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

necessary  to  be  a  good  and  quick  marksman ;  for  it 
is  never  easy  to  kill  an  animal,  when  in  rapid  mo 
tion,  with  a  single  bullet.  If  on  a  runway  a  man 
who  is  a  fairly  skilful  rifleman  has  plenty  of  time 
for  a  clear  shot,  on  open  ground,  at  comparatively 
short  distance,  say  under  eighty  yards,  and  if  the 
deer  is  cantering,  he  ought  to  hit;  at  least  I  gen 
erally  do  under  such  circumstances,  by  remember 
ing  to  hold  well  forward,  in  fact  just  in  front  of  the 
deer's  chest.  But  I  do  not  always  kill  by  any  means ; 
quite  often  when  I  thought  I  held  far  enough  ahead, 
my  bullet  has  gone  into  the  buck's  hips  or  loins. 
However,  one  great  feature  in  the  use  of  dogs  is  that 
they  enable  one  almost  always  to  recover  wounded 
game. 

If  the  animal  is  running  at  full  speed  a  long  dis 
tance  off,  the  difficulty  of  hitting  is  of  course  very 
much  increased ;  and  if  the  country  is  open  the  value 
of  a  repeating  rifle  is  then  felt.  If  the  game  is  bound 
ing  over  logs  or  dodging  through  underbrush,  the 
difficulty  is  again  increased.  Moreover,  the  natural 
gait  of  the  different  kinds  of  game  must  be  taken 
into  account.  Of  course  the  larger  kinds,  such  as 
elk  and  moose,  are  the  easiest  to  hit ;  then  comes  the 
antelope,  in  spite  of  its  swiftness,  and  the  sheep, 
because  of  the  evenness  of  their  running;  then  the 
whitetail,  with  its  rolling  gallop ;  and  last  and  hard 
est  of  all,  the  blacktail,  because  of  its  extraordinary 
stiff-legged  bounds. 


The  Whitetail  Deer  57 

Sometimes  on  a  runway  the  difficulty  is  not  that 
the  game  is  too  far,  but  that  it  is  too  close ;  for  a  deer 
may  actually  almost  jump  on  the  hunter,  surprising 
him  out  of  all  accuracy  of  aim.  Once  something  of 
the  sort  happened  to  me. 

Winter  was  just  beginning.  I  had  been  off  with 
the  ranch  wagon  on  a  last  round-up  of  the  beef 
steers;  and  had  suffered  a  good  deal,  as  one  always 
does  on  these  cold  weather  round-ups,  sleeping  out 
in  the  snow,  wrapped  up  in  blankets  and  tarpaulin, 
with  no  tent  and  generally  no  fire.  Moreover,  I 
became  so  weary  of  the  interminable  length  of  the 
nights,  that  I  almost  ceased  to  mind  the  freezing 
misery  of  standing  night  guard  round  the  restless 
cattle;  while  roping,  saddling,  and  mastering  the 
rough  horses  each  morning,  with  numbed  and  stif 
fened  limbs,  though  warming  to  the  blood  was  har 
rowing  to  the  temper. 

On  my  return  to  the  ranch  I  found  a  strange 
hunter  staying  there;  a  clean,  square-built,  honest- 
looking  little  fellow,  but  evidently  not  a  native 
American.  As  a  rule,  nobody  displays  much  curios 
ity  about  any  one's  else  antecedents  in  the  Far  West ; 
but  I  happened  to  ask  my  foreman  who  the  new 
comer  was, — chiefly  because  the  said  newcomer, 
evidently  appreciating  the  warmth  and  comfort  of 
the  clean,  roomy  ranch  house,  with  its  roaring  fires, 
books,  and  good  fare,  seemed  inclined  to  make  a 
permanent  stay,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 


58  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

country.  My  foreman,  who  had  a  large  way  of 
.looking  at  questions  of  foreign  ethnology  and  geog 
raphy,  responded  with  indifference :  "Oh,  he's  a 
kind  of  a  Dutchman ;  but  he  hates  the  other  Dutch, 
mortal.  He's  from  an  island  Germany  took  from 
France  in  the  last  war!"  This  seemed  puzzling; 
but  it  turned  out  that  the  "island"  in  question  was 
Alsace.  Native  Americans  predominate  among  the 
dwellers  in  and  on  the  borders  of  the  wilderness, 
and  in  the  wild  country  over  which  the  great  herds 
of  the  cattlemen  roam;  and  they  take  the  lead  in 
every  way.  The  sons  of  the  Germans,  Irish,  and 
other  European  newcomers  are  usually  quick  to 
claim  to  be  "straight  United  States,"  and  to  dis 
avow  all  kinship  with  the  fellow-countrymen  of  their 
fathers.  Once  while  with  a  hunter  bearing  a  German 
name  we  came  by  chance  on  a  German  hunting 
party  from  one  of  the  Eastern  cities.  One  of  them 
remarked  to  my  companion  that  he  must  be  part 
German  himself,  to  which  he  cheerfully  answered : 
"Well,  my  father  was  a  Dutchman,  but  my  mother 
was  a  white  woman!  I'm  pretty  white  myself!" 
whereat  the  Germans  glowered  at  him  gloomily. 

As  we  were  out  of  meat  the  Alsatian  and  one  of 
the  cowboys  and  I  started  down  the  river  with  a 
wagon.  The  first  day  in  camp  it  rained  hard,  so 
that  we  could  not  hunt.  Toward  evening  we  grew 
tired  of  doing  nothing,  and  as  the  rain  had  become 
a  mere  fine  drizzle,  we  sallied  out  to  drive  one  of 


The  Whitetail  Deer  59 

the  bottoms  for  whitetail.  The  cowboy  and  our 
one  trackhound  plunged  into  the  young  cottonwood 
which  grew  thickly  over  the  sandy  bottom;  while 
the  little  hunter  and  I  took  our  stands  on  a  cut 
bank,  twenty  feet  high  and  half  a  mile  long,  which 
hedged  in  the  trees  from  behind.  Three  or  four  game 
trails  led  up  through  steep,  narrow  clefts  in  this 
bank;  and  we  tried  to  watch  these.  Soon  I  saw  a 
deer  in  an  opening  below,  headed  toward  one  end  of 
the  bank,  round  which  another  game  trail  led;  and 
I  ran  hard  toward  this  end,  where  it  turned  into  a 
knife-like  ridge  of  clay.  About  fifty  yards  from  the 
point  there  must  have  been  some  slight  irregularities 
in  the  face  of  the  bank,  enough  to  give  the  deer 
a  foothold ;  for  as  I  ran  along  the  animal  suddenly 
bounced  over  the  crest,  so  close  that  I  could  have 
hit  it  with  my  right  hand.  As  I  tried  to  pull  up 
short  and  swing  round,  my  feet  slipped  from  under 
me  in  the  wet  clay,  and  down  I  went;  while  the 
deer  literally  turned  a  terrified  somersault  backward. 
I  flung  myself  to  the  edge  and  missed  a  hurried 
shot  as  it  raced  back  on  its  tracks.  Then,  wheeling, 
I  saw  the  little  hunter  running  toward  me  along 
the  top  of  the  cut  bank,  his  face  on  a  broad  grin. 
He  leaped  over  one  of  the  narrow  clefts,  up  which 
a  game  trail  led;  and  hardly  was  he  across  before 
the  frightened  deer  bolted  up  it,  not  three  yards 
from  his  back.  He  did  not  turn,  in  spite  of  my 
shouting  and  handwaving,  and  the  frightened  deer, 


60  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

in  the  last  stage  of  panic  at  finding  itself  again 
almost  touching  one  of  its  foes,  sped  off  across  the 
grassy  slopes  like  a  quarter  horse.  When  at  last 
the  hunter  did  turn,  it  was  too  late;  and  our  long- 
range  fusillade  proved  harmless.  During  the  next 
two  days  I  redeemed  myself,  killing  four  deer. 

Coming  back  our  wagon  broke  down,  no  unusual 
incident  in  ranch-land,  where  there  is  often  no  road, 
while  the  strain  is  great  in  hauling  through  quick 
sands,  and  up  or  across  steep  broken  hills ;  it  rarely 
makes  much  difference  beyond  the  temporary  de 
lay,  for  plains-men  and  mountain-men  are  very 
handy  and  self-helpful.  Besides,  a  mere  break 
down  sinks  into  nothing  compared  to  having  the 
team  play  out;  which  is,  of  course,  most  apt  to 
happen  at  the  times  when  it  ensures  hardship  and 
suffering,  as  in  the  middle  of  a  snowstorm,  or  when 
crossing  a  region  with  no  water.  However,  the 
reinsmen  of  the  plains  must  needs  face  many  such 
accidents,  not  to  speak  of  runaways,  or  having  the 
wagon  pitchpole  over  on  to  the  team  in  dropping 
down  too  steep  a  hillside.  Once  after  a  three  days* 
rainstorm  some  of  us  tried  to  get  the  ranch  wagon 
along  a  trail  which  led  over  the  ridge  of  a  gumbo 
or  clay  butte.  The  sticky  stuff  clogged  our  shoes, 
the  horses'  hoofs,  and  the  wheels;  and  it  was  even 
more  slippery  than  it  was  sticky.  Finally  we  struck 
a  sloping  shoulder;  with  great  struggling,  pulling, 
pushing,  and  shouting,  we  reached  the  middle  of 


The  Whitetail  Deer  61 

it,   and  then,   as  one  of  my  men  remarked,  "the 
whole  darned  outfit  slid  into  the  coulie." 

These  hunting  trips  after  deer  or  antelope  with 
the  wagon  usually  take  four  or  five  days.  I  always 
ride  some  tried  hunting  horse;  and  the  wagon  it 
self  when  on  such  a  hunt  is  apt  to  lead  a  checkered 
career,  as  half  the  time  there  is  not  the  vestige  of 
a  trail  to  follow.  Moreover  we  often  make  a  hunt 
when  the  good  horses  are  on  the  round-up,  or  other 
wise  employed,  and  we  have  to  get  together  a  scrub 
team  of  cripples  or  else  of  outlaws — vicious  devils, 
only  used  from  dire  need.  The  best  teamster  for 
such  a  hunt  that  we  ever  had  on  the  ranch  was  a 
weather-beaten  old  fellow  known  as  "Old  Man 
Tompkins."  In  the  course  of  a  long  career  as 
lumberman,  plains  teamster,  buffalo  hunter,  and 
Indian  fighter,  he  had  passed  several  years  as  a 
Rocky  Mountain  stage  driver;  and  a  stage  driver 
of  the  Rockies  is  of  necessity  a  man  of  such  skill 
and  nerve  that  he  fears  no  team  and  no  country. 
No  matter  how  wild  the  unbroken  horses,  Old  Tomp 
kins  never  asked  help;  and  he  hated  to  drive  less 
than  a  four-in-hand.  When  he  once  had  a  grip  on 
the  reins,  he  let  no  one  hold  the  horses'  heads.  All 
he  wished  was  an  open  plain  for  the  rush  at  the 
beginning.  The  first  plunge  might  take  the  wheel 
ers'  forefeet  over  the  cross-bars  of  the  leaders,  but 
he  never  stopped  for  that;  on  went  the  team,  run 
ning,  bounding,  rearing,  tumbling,  while  the  wagon 


62  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

leaped  behind,  until  gradually  things  straightened 
out  of  their  own  accord.  I  soon  found,  however, 
that  I  could  not  allow  him  to  carry  a  rifle;  for  he 
was  an  inveterate  game  butcher.  In  the  presence 
of  game  the  old  fellow  became  fairly  wild  with  ex 
citement,  and  forgot  the  years  and  rheumatism 
which  had  crippled  him.  Once,  after  a  long  and 
tiresome  day's  hunt,  we  were  walking  home  to 
gether;  he  was  carrying  his  boots  in  his  hands, 
bemoaning  the  fact  that  his  feet  hurt  him.  Sud 
denly  a  whitetail  jumped  up;  down  dropped  Old 
Tompkins's  boots,  and  away  he  went  like  a  college 
sprinter,  entirely  heedless  of  stones  and  cactus.  By 
some  indiscriminate  firing  at  long  range  we  dropped 
the  deer;  and  as  Old  Tompkins  cooled  down  he 
realized  that  his  bare  feet  had  paid  full  penalty  for 
his  dash. 

One  of  these  wagon  trips  I  remember  because 
I  missed  a  fair  running  shot  which  I  much  desired 
to  hit;  and  afterward  hit  a  very  much  more  diffi 
cult  shot  about  which  I  cared  very  little.  Ferguson 
and  I,  with  Sylvane  and  one  or  two  others,  had  gone 
a  day's  journey  down  the  river  for  a  hunt.  We 
went  along  the  bottoms,  crossing  the  stream  every 
mile  or  so,  with  an  occasional  struggle  through 
mud  or  quicksand,  or  up  the  steep,  rotten  banks. 
An  old  buffalo  hunter  drove  the  wagon,  with  a 
couple  of  shaggy,  bandy-legged  ponies;  the  rest  of 
us  jogged  along  in  front  on  horseback,  picking  out 


The  Whitetail  Deer  63 

a  trail  through  the  bottoms  and  choosing  the  best 
crossing  places.  Some  of  the  bottoms  were  grassy 
pastures;  on  others  great,  gnarled  cottonwoods 
with  shivered  branches  stood  in  clumps ;  yet  others 
were  choked  with  a  true  forest  growth.  Late  in 
the  afternoon  we  went  into  camp,  choosing  a  spot 
where  the  cottonwoods  were  young;  their  glossy 
leaves  trembled  and  rustled  unceasingly.  We  speed 
ily  picketed  the  horses — changing  them  about  as 
they  ate  off  the  grass, — drew  water,  and  hauled 
great  logs  in  front  of  where  we  had  pitched  the 
tent,  while  the  wagon  stood  nearby.  Each  man 
laid  out  his  bed;  the  food  and  kitchen  kit  were 
taken  from  the  wagon;  supper  was  cooked  and 
eaten;  and  we  then  lay  round  the  camp-fire,  gazing 
into  it,  or  up  at  the  brilliant  stars,  and  listening 
to  the  wild,  mournful  wailing  of  the  coyotes.  They 
were  very  plentiful  round  this  camp ;  before  sunrise 
and  after  sundown  they  called  unceasingly. 

Next  day  I  took  a  long  tramp  and  climb  after 
mountain-sheep  and  missed  a  running  shot  at  a  fine 
ram,  about  a  hundred  yards  off ;  or,  rather,  I  hit  him 
and  followed  his  bloody  trail  a  couple  of  miles,  but 
failed  to  find  him ;  whereat  I  returned  to  camp  much 
cast  down. 

Early  the  following  morning  Sylvane  and  I 
started  for  another  hunt,  this  time  on  horseback. 
The  air  was  crisp  and  pleasant;  the  beams  of  the 
just-risen  sun  struck  sharply  on  the  umber-colored 


64  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

hills  and  white  cliff  walls  guarding  the  river,  bring 
ing  into  high  relief  their  strangely  carved  and  chan 
neled  fronts.  Below  camp  the  river  was  little  but 
a  succession  of  shallow  pools  strung  along  the  broad 
sandy  bed  which  in  spring-time  was  filled  from  bank 
to  bank  with  foaming  muddy  water.  Two  mallards 
sat  in  one  of  these  pools ;  and  I  hit  one  with  the  rifle, 
so  nearly  missing  that  the  ball  scarcely  ruffled  a 
feather ;  yet  in  some  way  the  shock  told,  for  the  bird, 
after  flying  thirty  yards,  dropped  on  the  sand. 

Then  we  left  the  river  and  our  active  ponies  scram 
bled  up  a  small  canyon-like  break  in  the  bluffs.  All 
day  we  rode  among  the  hills ;  sometimes  across 
rounded  slopes,  matted  with  short  buffalo  grass; 
sometimes  over  barren  buttes  of  red  or  white  clay, 
where  only  sage  brush  and  cactus  grew;  or  beside 
deep  ravines,  black  with  stunted  cedar;  or  along 
beautiful  winding  coulies,  where  the  grass  grew 
rankly,  and  the  thickets  of  ash  and  wild  plum  made 
brilliant  splashes  of  red  and  yellow  and  tender  green. 
Yet  we  saw  nothing. 

As  evening  grew  on  we  rode  riverward;  we  slid 
down  the  steep  bluff  walls,  and  loped  across  a  great 
bottom  of  sage  brush  and  tall  grass,  our  horses  now 
and  then  leaping  like  cats  over  the  trunks  of  dead 
cottonwoods.  As  we  came  to  the  brink  of  the  cut 
bank  which  forms  the  hither  boundary  of  the  river 
in  freshet  time,  we  suddenly  saw  two  deer,  a  doe 
and  a  well  grown  fawn — of  course  long  out  of  the 


The  Whitetail  Deer  65 

spotted  coat.  They  were  walking  with  heads  down 
along  the  edge  of  a  sand-bar,  near  a  pool,  on  the 
further  side  of  the  stream  bed,  over  two  hundred 
yards  distant.  They  saw  us  at  once,  and  turning, 
galloped  away,  with  flags  aloft,  the  pictures  of 
springing,  vigorous  beauty.  I  jumped  off  my  horse 
in  an  instant,  knelt,  and  covered  the  fawn.  It  was 
going  straight  away  from  me,  running  very  evenly, 
and  I  drew  a  coarse  sight  at  the  tip  of  the  white 
flag-  As  I  pulled  trigger  down  went  the  deer,  the 
ball  having  gone  into  the  back  of  its  head.  The 
distance  was  a  good  three  hundred  yards ;  and  while 
of  course  there  was  much  more  chance  than  skill  in 
the  shot  I  felt  well  pleased  with  it — though  I  could 
not  help  a  regret  that,  while  making  such  a  difficult 
shot  at  a  mere  whitetail,  I  should  have  missed  a 
much  easier  shot  at  a  noble  bighorn.  Not  only  I, 
but  all  the  camp,  had  a  practical  interest  in  my  suc 
cess  ;  for  we  had  no  fresh  meat,  and  a  fat  whitetail 
fawn,  killed  in  October,  yields  the  best  of  venison. 
So  after  dressing  the  deer  I  slung  the  carcass  behind 
my  saddle,  and  we  rode  swiftly  back  to  camp  through 
the  dark;  and  that  evening  we  feasted  on  the  juicy 
roasted  ribs. 

The  degree  of  tameness  and  unsuspiciousness 
shown  by  whitetail  deer  depends,  of  course,  upon 
the  amount  of  molestation  to  which  they  are  ex 
posed.  Their  times  for  sleeping,  feeding,  and  com 
ing  to  water  vary  from  the  same  cause.  Where 


66  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

they  are  little  persecuted  they  feed  long  after  sun 
rise  and  before  sunset,  and  drink  when  the  sun  is 
high  in  the  heavens,  sometimes  even  at  midday; 
they  then  show  but  little  fear  of  man,  and  speedily 
become  indifferent  to  the  presence  of  deserted  dwell 
ings. 

In  the  cattle  country  the  ranch  houses  are  often 
shut  during  the  months  of  warm  weather,  when  the 
round-ups  succeed  one  another  without  intermission, 
as  the  calves  must  be  branded,  the  beeves  gathered 
and  shipped,  long  trips  made  to  collect  strayed  ani 
mals,  and  the  trail  stock  driven  from  the  breeding 
to  the  fattening  grounds.  At  that  time  all  the  men 
folk  may  have  to  be  away  in  the  white-topped  wag 
ons,  working  among  the  horned  herds,  whether 
plodding  along  the  trail,  or  wandering  to  and  fro 
on  the  range.  Late  one  summer,  when  my  own 
house  had  been  thus  closed  for  many  months,  I 
rode  thither  with  a  friend  to  pass  a  week.  The  place 
already  wore  the  look  of  having  slipped  away  from 
the  domain  of  man.  The  wild  forces,  barely  thrust 
back  beyond  the  threshold  of  our  habitation,  were 
prompt  to  spring  across  it  to  renewed  possession 
the  moment  we  withdrew.  The  rank  grass  grew 
tall  in  the  yard,  and  on  the  sodded  roofs  of  the 
stable  and  sheds;  the  weather-beaten  log  walls  of 
the  house  itself  were  one  in  tint  with  the  trunks  of 
the  gnarled  cottonwoods  by  which  it  was  shaded. 
Evidently  the  woodland  creatures  had  come  to  re- 


The  Whitetail  Deer  67 

gard  the  silent,  deserted  buildings  as  mere  out 
growths  of  the  wilderness,  no  more  to  be  feared  than 
the  trees  around  them  or  the  gray,  strangely  shaped 
buttes  behind. 

Lines  of  delicate,  heart-shaped  footprints  in  the 
muddy  reaches  of  the  half-dry  river-bed  showed 
where  the  deer  came  to  water;  and  in  the  dusty 
cattle-trails  among  the  ravines  many  round  tracks 
betrayed  the  passing  and  repassing  of  timber  wolves, 
— once  or  twice  in  the  late  evening  we  listened  to 
their  savage  and  melancholy  howling.  Cotton-tail 
rabbits  burrowed  under  the  veranda.  Within  doors 
the  bushy-tailed  pack-rats  had  possession,  and  at 
night  they  held  a  perfect  witches'  sabbath  in  the 
garret  and  kitchen ;  while  a  little  white- footed  mouse, 
having  dragged  half  the  stuffing  out  of  a  mattress, 
had  made  thereof  a  big  fluffy  nest,  entirely  rilling 
the  oven. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  the  abundant  sign  of  game,  we 
at  first  suffered  under  one  of  those  spells  of  ill-luck 
which  at  times  befall  all  hunters,  and  for  several 
days  we  could  kill  nothing,  though  we  tried  hard, 
being  in  need  of  fresh  meat.  The  moon  was  full- 
each  evening,  sitting  on  the  ranch  veranda,  or  walk 
ing  homeward,  we  watched  it  rise  over  the  line  of 
bluffs  beyond  the  river — and  the  deer  were  feeding 
at  night ;  moreover,  in  such  hot  weather  they  lie  very 
close,  move  as  little  as  possible,  and  are  most  diffi 
cult  to  find.  Twice  we  lay  out  from  dusk  until 


68  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

dawn,  in  spite  of  the  mosquitoes,  but  saw  nothing; 
and  the  chances  we  did  get  we  failed  to  profit  by. 

One  morning,  instead  of  trudging  out  to  hunt  I 
stayed  at  home,  and  sat  in  a  rocking-chair  on  the 
veranda  reading,  rocking,  or  just  sitting  still  listen 
ing  to  the  low  rustling  of  the  cottonwood  branches 
overhead,  and  gazing  across  the  river.  Through 
the  still,  clear,  hot  air,  the  faces  of  the  bluffs  shone 
dazzling  white;  no  shadow  fell  from  the  cloudless 
sky  on  the  grassy  slopes,  or  on  the  groves  of  timber ; 
only  the  faraway  cooing  of  a  mourning-dove  broke 
the  silence.  Suddenly  my  attention  was  arrested 
by  a  slight  splashing  in  the  water ;  glancing  up  from 
my  book  I  saw  three  deer,  which  had  come  out  of 
the  thick  fringe  of  bushes  and  young  trees  across 
the  river,  and  were  strolling  along  the  sand-bars  di 
rectly  opposite  me.  Slipping  stealthily  into  the  house 
I  picked  up  my  rifle,  and  slipped  back  again.  One 
of  the  deer  was  standing  motionless,  broadside  to 
me ;  it  was  a  long  shot,  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards, 
but  I  had  a  rest  against  a  pillar  of  the  veranda.  I 
held  true,  and  as  the  smoke  cleared  away  the  deer 
lay  struggling  on  the  sands. 

As  the  whitetail  is  the  most  common  and  widely 
distributed  of  American  game,  so  the  Columbian 
blacktail  has  the  most  sharply  limited  geographical 
range;  for  it  is  confined  to  the  northwest  coast, 
where  it  is  by  far  the  most  abundant  deer.  In  ant- 


The  Whitetail  Deer  69 

lers  it  is  indistinguishable  from  the  common  black- 
tail  of  the  Rockies  and  the  great  plains,  and  it  has 
the  regular  blacktail  gait,  a  succession  of  stiff-legged 
bounds  on  all  four  feet  at  once;  but  its  tail  is  more 
like  a  whitetail's  in  shape,  though  black  above.  As 
regards  methods  of  hunting,  and  the  amount  of 
sport  yielded,  it  stands  midway  between  its  two 
brethren.  It  lives  in  a  land  of  magnificent  timber, 
where  the  trees  tower  far  into  the  sky,  the  giants  of 
their  kind ;  and  there  are  few  more  attractive  sports 
than  still-hunting  on  the  mountains,  among  these 
forests  of  marvelous  beauty  and  grandeur.  There 
are  many  lakes  among  the  mountains  where  it 
dwells,  and  as  it  cares  more  for  water  than  the  ordi 
nary  blacktail,  it  is  comparatively  easy  for  hounds 
to  drive  it  into  some  pond  where  it  can  be  killed 
at  leisure.  It  is  thus  often  killed  by  hounding. 

The  only  one  I  ever  killed  was  a  fine  young  buck. 
We  had  camped  near  a  little  pond,  and  as  evening 
fell  I  strolled  off  toward  it  and  sat  down.  Just  after 
sunset  the  buck  came  out  of  the  woods.  For  some 
moments  he  hesitated  and  then  walked  forward  and 
stood  by  the  edge  of  the  water,  about  sixty  yards 
from  me.  We  were  out  of  meat,  so  I  held  right 
behind  his  shoulder,  and  though  he  went  off,  his 
bounds  were  short  and  weak,  and  he  fell  before  he 
reached  the  wood. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ON   THE   CATTLE  RANGES;   THE   PRONG-HORN 
ANTELOPE 

EARLY  one  June  just  after  the  close  of  the  regu 
lar  spring  round-up,  a  couple  of  wagons,  with 
a  score  of  riders  between  them,  were  sent  to  work 
some  hitherto  untouched  country,  between  the  Lit 
tle  Missouri  and  the  Yellowstone.  I  was  to  go  as 
the  representative  of  our  own  and  of  one  or  two 
neighboring  brands ;  but  as  the  round-up  had  halted 
near  my  ranch  I  determined  to  spend  a  day  there, 
and  then  to  join  the  wagons; — the  appointed  meet 
ing-place  being  a  cluster  of  red  scoria  buttes,  some 
forty  miles  distant,  where  there  was  a  spring  of 
good  water. 

Most  of  my  day  at  the  ranch  was  spent  in  slum 
ber;  for  I  had  been  several  weeks  on  the  round-up, 
where  nobody  ever  gets  quite  enough  sleep.  This 
is  the  only  drawback  to  the  work;  otherwise  it  is 
pleasant  and  exciting,  with  just  that  slight  touch 
of  danger  necessary  to  give  it  zest,  and  without 
the  wearing  fatigue  of  such  labor  as  lumbering  or 
mining.  But  there  is  never  enough  sleep,  at  least 
on  the  spring  and  mid-summer  round-ups.  The 
men  are  in  the  saddle  from  dawn  until  dusk,  at 
(70) 


On  the  Cattle  Ranges  71 

the  time  when  the  days  are  longest  on  these  great 
northern  plains;  and  in  addition  there  is  the  regu 
lar  night  guarding  and  now  and  then  a  furious 
storm  or  a  stampede,  when  for  twenty  hours  at  a 
stretch  the  riders  only  dismount  to  change  horses 
or  snatch  a  mouthful  of  food. 

I  started  in  the  bright  sunrise,  riding  one  horse 
and  driving  loose  before  me  eight  others,  one  carry 
ing  my  bedding.  They  traveled  strung  out  in  sin 
gle  file.  I  kept  them  trotting  and  loping,  for  loose 
horses  are  easiest  to  handle  when  driven  at  some 
speed,  and  moreover  the  way  was  long.  My  rifle 
was  slung  under  my  thigh;  the  lariat  was  looped 
on  the  saddle-horn. 

At  first  our  trail  led  through  winding  coulies, 
and  sharp  grassy  defiles;  the  air  was  wonderfully 
clear,  the  flowers  were  in  bloom,  the  breath  of  the 
wind  in  my  face  was  odorous  and  sweet.  The  pat 
ter  and  beat  of  the  unshod  hoofs,  rising  in  half- 
rhythmic  measure,  frightened  the  scudding  deer; 
but  the  yellow-breasted  meadow  larks,  perched  on 
the  budding  tops  of  the  bushes,  sang  their  rich  full 
songs  without  heeding  us  as  we  went  by. 

When  the  sun  was  well  on  high  and  the  heat  of 
the  day  had  begun  we  came  to  a  dreary  and  barren 
plain,  broken  by  rows  of  low  clay  buttes.  The 
ground  in  places  was  whitened  by  alkali ;  elsewhere 
it  was  dull  gray.  Here  there  grew  nothing  save 
sparse  tufts  of  coarse  grass,  and  cactus,  and  sprawl- 


Ji  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

ing  sage  brush.  In  the  hot  air  all  things  seen  afar 
danced  and  wavered.  As  I  rode  and  gazed  at  the 
shimmering  haze  the  vast  desolation  of  the  land 
scape  bore  on  me,  it  seemed  as  if  the  unseen  and 
unknown  powers  of  the  wastes  were  moving  by  and 
marshaling  their  silent  forces.  No  man  save  the 
wilderness  dweller  knows  the  strong  melancholy 
fascination  of  these  long  rides  through  lonely  lands. 
At  noon,  that  the  horses  might  graze  and  drink, 
I  halted  where  some  box-alders  grew  by  a  pool  in 
the  bed  of  a  half-dry  creek;  and  shifted  my  saddle 
to  a  fresh  beast.  When  we  started  again  we  came 
out  on  the  rolling  prairie,  where  the  green  sea  of 
wind-rippled  grass  stretched  limitless  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach.  Little  striped  gophers  scuttled 
away,  or  stood  perfectly  straight  at  the  mouths  of 
their  burrows,  looking  like  picket  pins.  Curlews 
clamored  mournfully  as  they  circled  overhead. 
Prairie  fowl  swept  off,  clucking  and  calling,  or 
strutted  about  with  their  sharp  tails  erect.  Antelope 
were  very  plentiful,  running  like  race-horses  across 
the  level,  or  uttering  their  queer,  barking  grunt  as 
they  stood  at  gaze,  the  white  hairs  on  their  rumps 
all  on  end,  their  neck  bands  of  broken  brown  and 
white  vivid  in  the  sunlight.  They  were  found  sin 
gly  or  in  small  straggling  parties ;  the  master  bucks 
had  not  yet  begun  to  drive  out  the  younger  and 
weaker  ones  as  later  in  the  season,  when  each  would 
gather  into  a  herd  as  many  does  as  his  jealous 


On  the   Cattle  Ranges  73 

strength  could  guard  from  rivals.  The  nursing 
does  whose  kids  had  come  early  were  often  found 
with  the  bands;  the  others  kept  apart.  The  kids 
were  very  conspicuous  figures  on  the  prairies,  across 
which  they  scudded  like  jack-rabbits,  showing  nearly 
as  much  speed  and  alertness  as  their  parents;  only 
the  very  young  sought  safety  by  lying  flat  to  es 
cape  notice. 

The  horses  cantered  and  trotted  steadily  over 
the  mat  of  buffalo  grass,  steering  for  the  group 
of  low  scoria  mounds  which  was  my  goal.  In  mid- 
afternoon  I  reached  it.  The  two  wagons  were 
drawn  up  near  the  spring ;  under  them  lay  the  night- 
wranglers,  asleep;  nearby  the  teamster-cooks  were 
busy  about  the  evening  meal.  A  little  way  off  the 
two  day-wranglers  were  watching  the  horse-herd; 
into  which  I  speedily  turned  my  own  animals.  The 
riders  had  already  driven  in  the  bunches  of  cattle, 
and  were  engaged  in  branding  the  calves,  and  turn 
ing  loose  the  animals  that  were  not  needed,  while 
the  remainder  were  kept,  forming  the  nucleus  of 
the  herd  which  was  to  accompany  the  wagon. 

As  soon  as  the  work  was  over  the  men  rode  to 
the  wagons;  sinewy  fellows,  with  tattered  broad- 
brimmed  hats  and  clanking  spurs,  some  wearing 
leather  shaps  or  leggings,  others  having  their  trou 
sers  tucked  into  their  high-heeled  top-boots,  all  with 
their  flannel  shirts  and  loose  neckerchiefs  dusty 
and  sweaty.  A  few  were  indulging  in  rough,  good- 

4  VOL.  II. 


74  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

natured  horse  play,  to  an  accompaniment  of  yelling 
mirth;  most  were  grave  and  taciturn,  greeting  me 
with  a  silent  nod  or  a  "How !  friend.'*  A  very  talka 
tive  man,  unless  the  acknowledged  wit  of  the  party, 
according  to  the  somewhat  florid  frontier  notion 
of  wit,  is  always  looked  on  with  disfavor  in  a  cow- 
camp.  After  supper,  eaten  in  silent  haste,  we  gath 
ered  round  the  embers  of  the  small  fires,  and  the 
conversation  glanced  fitfully  over  the  threadbare  sub 
jects  common  to  all  such  camps;  the  antics  of  some 
particularly  vicious  bucking  bronco,  how  the  differ 
ent  brands  of  cattle  were  showing  up,  the  smallness 
of  the  calf  drop,  the  respective  merits  of  rawhide 
lariats  and  grass  ropes,  and  bits  of  rather  startling 
and  violent  news  concerning  the  fates  of  certain 
neighbors.  Then  one  by  one  we  began  to  turn  in 
under  our  blankets. 

Our  wagon  was  to  furnish  the  night  guards  for 
the  cattle;  and  each  of  us  had  his  gentlest  horse 
tied  ready  to  hand.  The  night  guards  went  on  duty 
two  at  a  time  for  two-hour  watches.  By  good  luck 
my  watch  came  last.  My  comrade  was  a  happy-go- 
lucky  young  Texan  who  for  some  inscrutable  reason 
was  known  as  "Latigo  Strap";  he  had  just  come 
from  the  South  with  a  big  drove  of  trail  cattle. 

A  few  minutes  before  two,  one  of  the  guards 
who  had  gone  on  duty  at  midnight  rode  into  camp 
and  wakened  us  up  by  shaking  our  shoulders.  Fum 
bling  in  the  dark,  I  speedily  saddled  my  horse; 


On  the   Cattle  Ranges  75 

Latigo  had  left  his  saddled,  and  he  started  ahead 
of  me.  One  of  the  annoyances  of  night  guarding, 
at  least  in  thick  weather,  is  the  occasional  difficulty 
of  finding  the  herd  after  leaving  camp,  or  in  return 
ing  to  carnp  after  the  watch  is  over;  there  are  few 
things  more  exasperating  than  to  be  helplessly  wan 
dering  about  in  the  dark  under  such  circumstances. 
However,  on  this  occasion  there  was  no  such  trouble ; 
for  it  was  a  brilliant  starlight  night  and  the  herd  had 
been  bedded  down  by  a  sugar-loaf  butte  which  made 
a  good  landmark.  As  we  reached  the  spot  we  could 
make  out  the  loom  of  the  cattle  lying  close  together 
on  the  level  plain;  and  then  the  dim  figure  of  a 
horseman  rose  vaguely  from  the  darkness  and 
moved  by  in  silence;  it  was  the  other  of  the  two 
midnight  guards,  on  his  way  back  to  his  broken 
slumber. 

At  once  we  began  to  ride  slowly  round  the  cattle 
in  opposite  directions.  We  were  silent,  for  the 
night  was  clear,  and  the  herd  quiet ;  in  wild  weather, 
when  the  cattle  are  restless,  the  cowboys  never  cease 
calling  and  singing  as  they  circle  them,  for  the 
sounds  seem  to  quiet  the  beasts. 

For  over  an  hour  we  steadily  paced  the  endless 
round,  saying  nothing,  with  our  greatcoats  buttoned, 
for  the  air  was  chill  toward  morning  on  the  north 
ern  plains,  even  in  summer.  Then  faint  streaks  of 
gray  appeared  in  the  east.  Latigo  Strap  began  to 
call  merrily  to  the  cattle.  A  coyote  came  sneaking 


76  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

over  the  butte  nearby,  and  halted  to  yell  and  wail; 
afterward  he  crossed  the  coulie  and  from  the  hill 
side  opposite  again  shrieked  in  dismal  crescendo. 
The  dawn  brightened  rapidly;  the  little  skylarks  of 
the  plains  began  to  sing,  soaring  far  overhead,  while 
it  \vas  still  much  too  dark  to  see  them.  Their  song 
is  not  powerful,  but  it  is  so  clear  and  fresh  and 
long-continued  that  it  always  appeals  to  one  very 
strongly;  especially  because  it  is  most  often  heard 
in  the  rose-tinted  air  of  the  glorious  mornings,  while 
the  listener  sits  in  the  saddle,  looking  across  the 
endless  sweep  of  the  prairies. 

As  it  grew  lighter  the  cattle  became  restless,  ris 
ing  and  stretching  themselves,  while  we  continued 
to  ride  round  them. 

"Then  the  bronc'  began  to  pitch 

And  I  began  to  ride ; 
He  bucked  me  off  a  cut  bank, 
Hell!  I  nearly  died!" 

sang  Latigo  from  the  other  side  of  the  herd.  A 
yell  from  the  wagons  told  that  the  cook  was  sum 
moning  the  sleeping  cow-punchers  to  breakfast;  we 
were  soon  able  to  distinguish  their  figures  as  they 
rolled  out  of  their  bedding,  wrapped  and  corded  it 
into  bundles,  and  huddled  sullenly  round  the  little 
fires.  The  horse-wranglers  were  driving  in  the  sad 
dle  bands.  All  the  cattle  got  on  their  feet  and  started 
feeding.  In  a  few  minutes  the  hasty  breakfast  at 
the  wagons  had  evidently  been  despatched,  for  we 


On  the   Cattle  Ranges  77 

could  see  the  men  forming  rope  corrals  into  which 
the  ponies  were  driven;  then  each  man  saddled, 
bridled,  and  mounted  his  horse,  two  or  three  of  the 
half-broken  beasts  bucking,  rearing,  and  plunging 
frantically  in  the  vain  effort  to  unseat  their  riders. 

The  two  men  who  were  first  in  the  saddle  relieved 
Latigo  and  myself,  and  we  immediately  galloped  to 
camp,  shifted  our  saddles  to  fresh  animals,  gulped 
down  a  cup  or  two  of  hot  coffee,  and  some  pork, 
beans  and  bread,  and  rode  to  the  spot  where  the 
others  were  gathered,  lolling  loosely  in  their  saddles, 
and  waiting  for  the  round-up  boss  to  assign  them 
their  tasks.  We  were  the  last,  and  as  soon  as  we 
arrived  the  boss  divided  all  into  two  parties  for  the 
morning  work,  or  "circle  riding,"  whereby  the  cattle 
were  to  be  gathered  for  the  round-up  proper.  Then, 
as  the  others  started,  he  turned  to  me  and  remarked : 
"We've  got  enough  hands  to  drive  this  open  country 
without  you ;  but  we're  out  of  meat,  and  I  don't  want 
to  kill  a  beef  for  such  a  small  outfit ;  can't  you  shoot 
some  antelope  this  morning?  We'll  pitch  camp  by 
the  big  blasted  cottonwood  at  the  foot  of  the  ash 
coulies,  over  yonder,  below  the  breaks  of  Dry 
Creek." 

Of  course  I  gladly  assented,  and  was  speedily 
riding  alone  across  the  grassy  slopes.  There  was 
no  lack  of  the  game  I  was  after,  for  from  every  rise 
of  ground  I  could  see  antelope  scattered  across  the 
prairie,  singly,  in  couples,  or  in  bands.  But  their 


78  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

very  numbers,  joined  to  the  lack  of  cover  on  such 
an  open,  flattish  country,  proved  a  bar  to  success ; 
while  I  was  stalking  one  band  another  was  sure  to 
see  me  and  begin  running,  whereat  the  first  would 
likewise  start ;  I  missed  one  or  two  very  long  shots, 
and  noon  found  me  still  without  game. 

However,  I  was  then  lucky  enough  to  see  a  band 
of  a  dozen  feeding  to  windward  of  a  small  butte, 
and  by  galloping  in  a  long  circle  I  got  within  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  of  them  before  having  to  dismount. 
The  stalk  itself  was  almost  too  easy;  for  I  simply 
walked  to  the  butte,  climbed  carefully  up  a  slope 
where  the  soil  was  firm  and  peered  over  the  top  to 
see  the  herd,  a  little  one,  a  hundred  yards  off.  They 
saw  me  at  once  and  ran,  but  I  held  well  ahead  of  a 
fine  young  prong-buck,  and  rolled  him  over  like  a 
rabbit,  with  both  shoulders  broken.  In  a  few  min 
utes  I  was  riding  onward  once  more  with  the  buck 
lashed  behind  my  saddle. 

The  next  one  I  got,  a  couple  of  hours  later,  of 
fered  a  much  more  puzzling  stalk.  He  was  a  big 
fellow  in  company  with  four  does  or  small  bucks. 
All  five  were  lying  in  the  middle  of  a  slight  basin, 
at  the  head  of  a  gentle  valley.  At  first  sight  it 
seemed  impossible  to  get  near  them,  for  there  was 
not  so  much  cover  as  a  sage  brush,  and  the  smooth, 
shallow  basin  in  which  they  lay  was  over  a  thou 
sand  yards  across,  while  they  were  looking  directly 
down  the  valley.  However,  it  is  curious  how  hard 


On   the  Cattle  Ranges  79 

it  is  to  tell,  even  from  nearby,  whether  a  stalk  can 
or  can  not  be  made;  the  difficulty  being  to  estimate 
the  exact  amount  of  shelter  yielded  by  little  inequali 
ties  of  ground.  In  this  instance  a  small,  shallow 
watercourse,  entirely  dry,  ran  along  the  valley,  and 
after  much  study  I  decided  to  try  to  crawl  up  it,  al 
though  the  big  bulging  telescopic  eyes  of  the  prong- 
buck — which  have  much  keener  sight  than  deer  or 
any  other  game — would  in  such  case  be  pointed  di 
rectly  my  way. 

Having  made  up  my  mind  I  backed  cautiously 
down  from  the  coign  of  vantage  whence  I  had  first 
seen  the  game,  and  ran  about  a  mile  to  the  mouth 
of  a  washout  which  formed  the  continuation  of  the 
watercourse  in  question.  Protected  by  the  high 
clay  banks  of  this  washout  I  was  able  to  walk  up 
right  until  within  half  a  mile  of  the  prong-bucks; 
then  my  progress  became  very  tedious  and  toilsome, 
as  I  had  to  work  my  way  up  the  watercourse  flat  on 
rny  stomach,  dragging  the  rifle  beside  me.  At  last 
I  reached  a  spot  beyond  which  not  even  a  snake 
could  crawl  unnoticed.  In  front  was  a  low  bank,  a 
couple  of  feet  high,  crested  with  tufts  of  coarse 
grass.  Raising  my  head  very  cautiously  I  peered 
through  these  and  saw  the  prong-horn  about  a  hun 
dred  and  fifty  yards  distant.  At  the  same  time  I 
found  that  I  had  crawled  to  the  edge  of  a  village 
of  prairie  dogs,  which  had  already  made  me  aware 
of  their  presence  by  their  shrill  yelping.  They 


8o  The  Wilderness   Hunter 

saw  me  at  once:  and  all  those  away  from  their 
homes  scuttled  toward  them,  and  dived  down  the 
burrows,  or  sat  on  the  mounds  at  the  entrances, 
scolding  convulsively  and  jerking  their  fat  little  bod 
ies  and  short  tails.  This  commotion  at  once  at 
tracted  the  attention  of  the  antelope.  They  rose 
forthwith,  and  immediately  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
black  muzzle  of  the  rifle  which  I  was  gently  pushing 
through  the  grass  tufts.  The  fatal  curiosity  which 
so  often  in  this  species  offsets  wariness  and  sharp 
sight,  proved  my  friend ;  evidently  the  antelope  could 
not  quite  make  me  out  and  wished  to  know  what  I 
was.  They  moved  nervously  to  and  fro,  striking 
the  earth  with  their  fore  hoofs,  and  now  and  then 
uttering  a  sudden  bleat.  At  last  the  big  buck  stood 
still  broadside  to  me,  and  I  fired.  He  went  off  with 
the  others,  but  lagged  behind  as  they  passed  over 
the  hill  crest,  and  when  I  reached  it  I  saw  him  stand 
ing,  not  very  far  off,  with  his  head  down.  Then  he 
walked  backward  a  few  steps,  fell  over  on  his  side, 
and  died. 

As  he  was  a  big  buck  I  slung  him  across  the  sad 
dle,  and  started  for  camp  afoot,  leading  the  horse. 
However,  my  hunt  was  not  over,  for  while  still  a 
mile  from  the  wagons,  going  down  a  coulie  of  Dry 
Creek,  a  yearling  prong-buck  walked  over  the  divide 
to  my  right  and  stood  still  until  I  sent  a  bullet  into 
its  chest ;  so  that  I  made  my  appearance  in  camp  with 
three  antelope. 


On  the   Cattle   Ranges  81 

I  spoke  above  of  the  sweet  singing  of  the  Western 
meadow-lark  and  plains  skylark;  neither  of  them 
kin  to  the  true  skylark,  by  the  way,  one  being  a 
cousin  of  the  grakles  and  hang-birds,  and  the  other 
a  kind  of  pipit.  To  me  both  of  these  birds  are  among 
the  most  attractive  singers  to  which  I  have  ever  list 
ened  ;  but  with  all  bird-music  much  must  be  allowed 
for  the  surroundings  and  much  for  the  mood,  and 
the  keenness  of  sense,  of  the  listener.  The  lilt  of  the 
little  plains  skylark  is  neither  very  powerful  nor  very 
melodious;  but  it  is  sweet,  pure,  long-sustained, 
with  a  ring  of  courage  befitting  a  song  uttered  in 
highest  air. 

The  meadow-lark  is  a  singer  of  a  higher  order, 
deserving  to  rank  with  the  best.  Its  song  has 
length,  variety,  power,  and  rich  melody;  and  there 
is  in  it  sometimes  a  cadence  of  wild  sadness,  inex 
pressibly  touching.  Yet  I  can  not  say  that  either 
song  would  appeal  to  others  as  it  appeals  to  me ;  for 
to  me  it  comes  forever  laden  with  a  hundred  memo 
ries  and  associations ;  with  the  sight  of  dim  hills 
reddening  in  the  dawn,  with  the  breath  of  cool  morn 
ing  winds  blowing  across  lonely  plains,  with  the 
scent  of  flowers  on  the  sunlit  prairie,  with  the  mo 
tion  of  fiery  horses,  with  all  the  strong  thrill  of 
eager  and  buoyant  life.  I  doubt  if  any  man  can 
judge  dispassionately  the  bird  songs  of  his  own  coun 
try  ;  he  can  not  disassociate  them  from  the  sights  and 
sounds  of  the  land  that  is  so  dear  to  him. 


82  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

This  is  not  a  feeling  to  regret,  but  it  must  be 
taken  into  account  in  accepting  any  estimate  of  bird 
music — even  in  considering  the  reputation  of  the 
European  skylark  and  nightingale.  To  both  of  these 
birds  I  have  often  listened  in  their  own  homes ;  al 
ways  with  pleasure  and  admiration,  but  always  with 
a  growing  belief  that  relatively  to  some  other  birds 
they  were  ranked  too  high.  They  are  pre-eminently 
birds  with  literary  associations;  most  people  take 
their  opinions  of  them  at  second-hand,  from  the 
poets. 

No  one  can  help  liking  the  lark ;  it  is  such  a  bra  ve, 
honest,  cheery  bird,  and,  moreover,  its  song  is  ut 
tered  in  the  air,  and  is  very  long-sustained.  But  it 
is  by  no  means  a  musician  of  the  first  rank.  The 
nightingale  is  a  performer  of  a  very  different  and 
far  higher  order;  yet  though  it  is  indeed  a  notable 
and  admirable  singer,  it  is  an  exaggeration  to  call 
it  unequaled.  In  melody,  and  above  all  in  that 
finer,  higher  melody  where  the  chords  vibrate  with 
the  touch  of  eternal  sorrow,  it  can  not  rank  with 
such  singers  as  the  wood-thrush  and  hermit-thrush. 
The  serene,  ethereal  beauty  of  the  hermit's  song, 
rising  and  falling  through  the  still  evening,  under 
the  archways  of  hoary  mountain  forests  that  have 
endured  from  time  everlasting;  the  golden,  leisurely 
chiming  of  the  wood-thrush,  sounding  on  June  after 
noons,  stanza  by  stanza,  through  sun-fiecked  groves 
of  tall  hickories,  oaks,  and  chestnuts ;  with  these  there 


On  the   Cattle  Ranges  83 

is  nothing  in  the  nightingale's  song  to  compare.  But 
in  volume  and  continuity,  in  tuneful,  voluble,  rapid 
outpouring  and  ardor,  above  all  in  skilful  and  intri 
cate  variation  of  theme,  its  song  far  surpasses  that 
of  either  of  the  thrushes.  In  all  these  respects  it  is 
more  just  to  compare  it  with  the  mocking-bird's, 
which,  as  a  rule,  likewise  falls  short  precisely  on 
those  points  where  the  songs  of  the  two  thrushes 
excel. 

The  mocking-bird  is  a  singer  that  has  suffered 
much  in  reputation  from  its  powers  of  mimicry. 
On  ordinary  occasions,  and  especially  in  the  day 
time,  it  insists  on  playing  the  harlequin.  But  when 
free  in  its  own  favorite  haunts  at  night  in  the  love 
season  it  has  a  song,  or  rather  songs,  which  are  not 
only  purely  original,  but  are  also  more  beautiful 
than  any  other  bird  music  whatsoever.  Once  I  list 
ened  to  a  mocking-bird  singing  the  livelong  spring 
night,  under  the  full  moon,  in  a  magnolia  tree;  and 
I  do  not  think  I  shall  ever  forget  its  song. 

It  was  on  the  plantation  of  Major  Campbell 
Brown,  near  Nashville,  in  the  beautiful,  fertile  mid- 
Tennessee  country.  The  mocking-birds  were  prime 
favorites  on  the  place;  and  were  given  full  scope 
for  the  development,  not  only  of  their  bold  friendli 
ness  toward  mankind,  but  also  of  that  marked  in 
dividuality  and  originality  of  character  in  which  they 
so  far  surpass  every  other  bird  as  to  become  the  most 
interesting  of  all  feathered  folk.  One  of  the  mock- 


84  The  Wilderness   Hunter 

ers,  which  lived  in  the  hedge  bordering  the  garden, 
was  constantly  engaged  in  an  amusing  feud  with 
an  honest  old  setter  clog,  the  point  of  attack  being 
the  tip  of  the  dog's  tail.  For  some  reason  the  bird 
seemed  to  regard  any  hoisting  of  the  setter's  tail  as 
a  challenge  and  insult.  It  would  flutter  near  the 
dog  as  he  walked;  the  old  setter  would  become  in 
terested  in  something  and  raise  his  tail.  The  bird 
would  promptly  fly  at  it  and  peck  the  tip;  where 
upon  down  went  the  tail  until  in  a  couple  of  minutes 
the  old  fellow  would  forget  himself,  and  the  scene 
would  be  repeated.  The  dog  usually  bore  the  as 
saults  with  comic  resignation ;  and  the  mocker  easily 
avoided  any  momentary  outburst  of  clumsy  resent 
ment. 

On  the  evening  in  question  the  moon  was  full. 
My  host  kindly  assigned  me  a  room  of  which  the 
windows  opened  on  a  great  magnolia  tree,  where, 
I  was  told,  a  mocking-bird  sang  every  night  and  all 
night  long.  I  went  to  my  room  about  ten.  The 
moonlight  was  shining  in  through  the  open  win 
dow,  and  the  mocking-bird  was  already  in  the  mag 
nolia.  The  great  tree  was  bathed  in  a  flood  of 
shining  silver;  I  could  see  each  twig,  and  mark 
every  action  of  the  singer,  who  was  pouring  forth 
such  a  rapture  of  ringing  melody  as  I  have  never 
listened  to  before  or  since.  Sometimes  he  would 
perch  motionless  for  many  minutes,  his  body  quiv 
ering  and  thrilling  with  the  outpour  of  music.  Then 


On  the  Cattle  Ranges  85 

he  would  drop  softly  from  twig  to  twig,  until  the 
lowest  limb  was  reached,  when  he  would  rise,  flut 
tering  and  leaping  through  the  branches,  his  song 
never  ceasing  for  an  instant,  until  he  reached  the 
summit  of  the  tree  and  launched  into  the  warm, 
scent-laden  air,  floating  in  spirals,  with  outspread 
wings,  until,  as  if  spent,  he  sank  gently  back  into  the 
tree  and  down  through  the  branches,  while  his  song 
rose  into  an  ecstasy  of  ardor  and  passion.  His 
voice  rang  like  a  clarionet,  in  rich,  full  tones,  and 
his  execution  covered  the  widest  possible  compass; 
theme  followed  theme,  a  torrent  of  music,  a  swell 
ing  tide  of  harmony,  in  which  scarcely  any  two  bars 
were  alike.  I  stayed  till  midnight  listening  to  him ; 
he  was  singing  when  I  went  to  sleep;  he  was  still 
singing  when  I  woke  a  couple  of  hours  later;  he 
sang  through  the  livelong  night. 

There  are  many  singers  beside  the  meadow-lark 
and  little  skylark  in  the  plains  country;  that  brown 
and  desolate  land,  once  the  home  of  the  thronging 
buffalo,  still  haunted  by  the  bands  of  the  prong- 
buck,  and  roamed  over  in  ever-increasing  numbers  by 
the  branded  herds  of  the  ranchman.  In  the  brush 
of  the  river  bottoms  there  are  the  thrasher  and  song 
sparrow ;  on  the  grassy  uplands  the  lark  finch,  vesper 
sparrow,  and  lark  bunting ;  and  in  the  rough  canyons 
the  rock  wren,  with  its  ringing  melody. 

Yet  in  certain  moods  a  man  cares  less  for  even 
the  loveliest  bird  songs  than  for  the  wilder,  harsher, 


86  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

stronger  sounds  of  the  wilderness;  the  guttural 
booming  and  clucking  of  the  prairie  fowl  and  the 
great  sage  fowl  in  spring;  the  honking  of  gangs  of 
wild  geese,  as  they  fly  in  rapid  wedges ;  the  bark  of 
an  eagle,  wheeling  in  the  shadow  of  storm-scarred 
cliffs;  or  the  far-off  clanging  of  many  sand-hill 
cranes,  soaring  high  overhead  in  circles  which  cross 
and  recross  at  an  incredible  altitude.  Wilder  yet, 
and  stranger,  are  the  cries  of  the  great  four-footed 
beasts;  the  rhythmic  pealing  of  a  bull-elk's  chal 
lenge;  and  that  most  sinister  and  mournful  sound, 
ever  fraught  with  foreboding  of  murder  and  rapine, 
the  long-drawn  baying  of  the  gray  wolf. 

Indeed,  save  to  the  trained  ear,  most  mere  bird 
songs  are  not  very  noticeable.  The  ordinary  wil 
derness  dweller,  whether  hunter  or  cowboy,  scarcely 
heeds  them;  and  in  fact  knows  but  little  of  the 
smaller  birds.  If  a  bird  has  some  conspicuous  pe 
culiarity  of  look  or  habit  he  will  notice  its  existence ; 
but  not  otherwise.  He  knows  a  good  deal  about  mag 
pies,  whiskey  jacks,  or  water  ousels ;  but  nothingwhat- 
ever  concerning  the  thrushes,  finches,  and  warblers. 

It  is  the  same  with  mammals.  The  prairie-dogs 
he  can  not  help  noticing.  With  the  big  pack-rats 
also  he  is  well  acquainted;  for  they  are  handsome, 
with  soft  gray  fur,  large  eyes,  and  bushy  tails; 
and,  moreover,  no  one  can  avoid  remarking  their 
extraordinary  habit  of  carrying  to  their  burrows 
everything  bright,  useless,  and  portable,  from  an 


On  the   Cattle  Ranges  87 

empty  cartridge  case  to  a  skinning  knife.  But  he 
knows  nothing  of  mice,  shrews,  pocket  gophers,  or 
weasels;  and  but  little  even  of  some  larger  mam 
mals  with  very  marked  characteristics.  Thus  I  have 
met  but  one  or  two  plainsmen  who  knew  anything 
of  the  curious  plains  ferret,  that  rather  rare  weasel- 
like  animal,  which  plays  the  same  part  on  the  plains 
that  the  mink  does  by  the  edges  of  all  our  streams 
and  brooks,  and  the  tree-loving  sable  in  the  cold 
northern  forests.  The  ferret  makes  its  home  in 
burrows,  and  by  preference  goes  abroad  at  dawn 
and  dusk,  but  sometimes  even  at  midday.  It  is  as 
bloodthirsty  as  the  mink  itself,  and  its  life  is  one 
long  ramble  for  prey,  gophers,  prairie-dogs,  sage 
rabbits,  jack-rabbits,  snakes,  and  every  kind  of 
ground  bird  furnishing  its  food.  I  have  known  one 
to  fairly  depopulate  a  prairie-dog  town,  it  being 
the  arch  foe  of  these  little  rodents,  because  of  its 
insatiable  blood  lust  and  its  capacity  to  follow  them 
into  their  burrows.  Once  I  found  the  bloody  body 
and  broken  eggs  of  a  poor  prairie-hen  which  a  fer 
ret  had  evidently  surprised  on  her  nest.  Another 
time  one  of  my  men  was  eye-witness  to  a  more  re 
markable  instance  of  the  little  animal's  blood 
thirsty  ferocity.  He  was  riding  the  range,  and  be 
ing  attracted  by  a  slight  commotion  in  a  clump  of 
grass,  he  turned  his  horse  thither  to  look,  and  to 
his  astonishment  found  an  antelope  fawn  at  the  last 
gasp,  but  still  feebly  struggling,  -in  the  grasp  of  a 


88  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

ferret,  which  had  throttled  it  and  was  sucking  its 
blood  with  hideous  greediness.  He  avenged  the 
murdered  innocent  by  a  dexterous  blow  with  the 
knotted  end  of  his  lariat. 

That  mighty  bird  of  rapine,  the  war  eagle,  which 
on  the  great  plains  and  among  the  Rockies  supplants 
the  bald-headed  eagle  of  better- watered  regions,  is 
another  dangerous  foe  of  the  young  antelope.  It 
is  even  said  that  under  exceptional  circumstances 
eagles  will  assail  a  full-grown  prong-horn;  and  a 
neighboring  ranchman  informs  me  that  he  was  once 
an  eye-witness  to  such  an  attack.  It  was  a  bleak 
day  in  the  late  winter,  and  he  was  riding  home 
across  a  wide  dreary  plateau,  when  he  saw  two 
eagles  worrying  and  pouncing  on  a  prong-buck — 
seemingly  a  yearling.  It  made  a  gallant  fight.  The 
eagles  hovered  over  it  with  spread  wings,  now  and 
then  swooping  down,  their  talons  out-thrust,  to  strike 
at  the  head,  or  to  try  to  settle  on  the  loins.  The 
antelope  reared  and  struck  with  hoofs  and  horns 
like  a  goat ;  but  its  strength  was  failing  rapidly,  and 
doubtless  it  would  have  succumbed  in  the  end  had 
not  the  approach  of  the  ranchman  driven  off  the 
marauders. 

I  have  likewise  heard  stories  of  eagles  attacking 
badgers,  foxes,  bob-cats,  and  coyotes;  but  I  am 
inclined  to  think  all  such  cases  exceptional.  I  have 
never  myself  seen  an  eagle  assail  anything  bigger 
than  a  fawn,  lamb,  kid,  or  jack-rabbit.  It  also 


On  the   Cattle  Ranges  89 

swoops  at  geese,  sage  fowl,  and  prairie  fowl.  On 
one  occasion  while  riding  over  the  range  I  witnessed 
an  attack  on  a  jack-rabbit.  The  eagle  was  soaring 
overhead,  and  espied  the  jack  while  the  latter  was 
crouched  motionless.  Instantly  the  great  bird 
rushed  down  through  the  humming  air,  with  closed 
wings;  checked  itself  when  some  forty  yards  above 
the  jack,  hovered  for  a  moment,  and  again  fell  like 
a  bolt.  Away  went  long-ears,  running  as  only  a 
frightened  jack  can;  and  after  him  the  eagle,  not 
with  the  arrowy  rush  of  its  descent  from  high  air, 
but  with  eager,  hurried  flapping.  In  a  short  time 
it  had  nearly  overtaken  the  fugitive,  when  the  latter 
dodged  sharply  to  one  side,  and  the  eagle  overshot 
it  precisely  as  a  greyhound  would  have  done,  stop 
ping  itself  by  a  powerful,  setting  motion  of  the  great 
pinions.  Twice  this  manoeuvre  was  repeated;  then 
the  eagle  made  a  quick  rush,  caught  and  overthrew 
the  quarry  before  it  could  turn,  and  in  another 
moment  was  sitting  triumphant  on  the  quivering 
body,  the  crooked  talons  driven  deep  into  the  soft, 
furry  sides. 

Once  while  hunting  mountain  sheep  in  the  Bad 
Lands  I  killed  an  eagle  on  the  wing  with  the  rifle. 
I  was  walking  beneath  a  cliff  of  gray  clay,  when 
the  eagle  sailed  into  view  over  the  crest.  As  soon 
as  he  saw  me  he  threw  his  wings  aback,  and  for  a 
moment  before  wheeling  poised  motionless,  offering 
a  nearly  stationary  target ;  so  that  my  bullet  grazed 


90  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

his  shoulder,  and  down  he  came  through  the  air, 
tumbling  ovei  and  over.  As  he  struck  the  ground 
he  threw  himself  on  his  back,  and  fought  against 
his  death  with  the  undaunted  courage  proper  to  his 
brave  and  cruel  nature. 

Indians  greatly  prize  the  feathers  of  this  eagle. 
With  them  they  make  their  striking  and  beautiful 
war  bonnets,  and  bedeck  the  manes  and  tails  of  their 
spirited  war  ponies.  Every  year  the  Grosventres 
and  Mandans  from  the  Big  Missouri  come  to  the 
neighborhood  of  my  ranch  to  hunt.  Though  not 
good  marksmen  they  kill  many  whitetail  deer,  driv 
ing  the  bottoms  for  them  in  bands,  on  horseback; 
and  they  catch  many  eagles.  Sometimes  they  take 
these  alive  by  exposing  a  bait  near  which  a  hole  is 
dug,  where  one  of  them  lies  hidden  for  days,  with 
Indian  patience,  until  an  eagle  lights  on  the  bait 
and  is  noosed. 

Even  eagles  are  far  less  dangerous  enemies  to 
antelope  than  are  wolves  and  coyotes.  These  beasts 
are  always  prowling  round  the  bands  to  snap  up  the 
sick  or  unwary ;  and  in  spring  they  revel  in  carnage 
of  the  kids  and  fawns.  They  are  not  swift  enough 
to  overtake  the  grown  animals  by  sheer  speed;  but 
they  are  superior  in  endurance,  and,  especially  in 
winter,  often  run  them  down  in  fair  chase.  A 
prong-buck  is  a  plucky  little  beast,  and  when  cor 
nered  it  often  makes  a  gallant,  though  not  a  very 
effectual,  fight. 


CHAPTER  V 

HUNTING  THE  PRONG-BUCK  ;   FROST,   FIRE,   AND 
THIRST 

AS  with  all  other  American  game,  man  is  a  worse 
foe  to  the  prong-horns  than  all  their  brute 
enemies  combined.  They  hold  their  own  much  bet 
ter  than  the  bigger  game;  on  the  whole  even  better 
than  the  blacktail ;  but  their  numbers  have  been  wo- 
fully  thinned,  and  in  many  places  they  have  been 
completely  exterminated.  The  most  exciting  method 
of  chasing  them  is  on  horseback  with  greyhounds; 
but  they  are  usually  killed  with  the  rifle.  Owing 
to  the  open  nature  of  the  ground  they  frequent  the 
shots  must  generally  be  taken  at  long  range;  hence 
this  kind  of  hunting  is  pre-eminently  that  needing 
judgment  of  distance  and  skill  in  the  use  of  the  long- 
range  rifle  at  stationary  objects.  On  the  other  hand 
the  antelope  are  easily  seen,  making  no  effort  to  es 
cape  observation,  as  deer  do,  and  are  so  curious  that 
in  very  wild  districts  to  this  day  they  can  sometimes 
be  tolled  within  rifle  shot  by  the  judicious  waving  of 
a  red  flag.  In  consequence,  a  good  many  very  long, 
but  tempting,  shots  can  be  obtained.  More  car 
tridges  are  used,  relatively  to  the  amount  of  game 
killed,  on  antelope,  than  in  any  other  hunting. 

(90 


92  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

Often  I  have  killed  prong-bucks  while  riding  be 
tween  the  outlying  line  camps,  which  are  usually 
stationed  a  dozen  miles  or  so  back  from  the  river, 
where  the  Bad  Lands  melt  into  the  prairie.  In  con 
tinually  trying  long  shots,  of  course  one  occasional 
ly  makes  a  remarkable  hit.  Once  I  remember  while 
riding  down  a  broad,  shallow  coulie  with  two  of 
my  cow-hands — Seawell  and  Dow,  both  keen  hunt 
ers  and  among  the  stanchest  friends  I  have  ever 
had — rousing  a  band  of  antelope  which  stood  ir 
resolute  at  about  a  hundred  yards  until  I  killed  one. 
Then  they  dashed  off,  and  I  missed  one  shot,  but 
with  my  next,  to  my  own  utter  astonishment,  killed 
the  last  of  the  band,  a  big  buck,  just  as  he  topped 
a  rise  four  hundred  yards  away.  To  offset  such 
shots  I  have  occasionally  made  an  unaccountable 
miss.  Once  I  was  hunting  with  the  same  two  men, 
on  a  rainy  day,  when  we  came  on  a  bunch  of  ante 
lope  some  seventy  yards  off,  lying  down  on  the  side 
of  a  coulie,  to  escape  the  storm.  They  huddled  to 
gether  a  moment  to  gaze,  and,  with  stiffened  fingers 
I  took  a  shot,  my  yellow  oilskin  slicker  flapping 
around  me  in  the  wind  and  rain.  Down  went  one 
buck,  and  away  went  the  others.  One  of  my  men 
walked  up  to  the  fallen  beast,  bent  over  it,  and  then 
asked,  "Where  did  you  aim?'''  Not  reassured  by  the 
question,  I  answered  doubtfully,  "Behind  the  shoul 
der;"  whereat  he  remarked  dryly,  "Well,  you  hit 
it  in  the  eye!"  I  never  did  know  whether  I  killed 


Hunting  the   Prong-Buck  93 

the  antelope  I  aimed  at  or  another.  Yet  that  same 
day  I  killed  three  more  bucks  at  decidedly  long  shots ; 
at  the  time  we  lacked  meat  at  the  ranch,  and  were  out 
to  make  a  good  killing. 

Besides  their  brute  and  human  foes,  the  prong- 
horn  must  also  fear  the  elements,  and  especially  the 
snows  of  winter.  On  the  northern  plains  the  cold 
weather  is  of  polar  severity,  and  turns  the  green, 
grassy  prairies  of  midsummer  into  iron-bound 
wastes.  The  blizzards  whirl  and  sweep  across  them 
with  a  shrieking  fury  which  few  living  things  may 
face.  The  snow  is  like  fine  ice  dust,  and  the  white 
waves  glide  across  the  grass  with  a  stealthy,  crawl 
ing  motion  which  has  in  it  something  sinister  and 
cruel.  Accordingly,  as  the  bright  fall  weather  passes, 
and  the  dreary  winter  draws  nigh,  when  the  days 
shorten,  and  the  nights  seem  interminable,  and  gray 
storms  lower  above  the  gray  horizon,  the  antelope 
gather  in  bands  and  seek  sheltered  places,  where 
they  may  abide  through  the  winter-time  of  famine 
and  cold  and  deep  snow.  Some  of  these  bands  travel 
for  many  hundred  miles,  going  and  returning  over 
the  same  routes,  swimming  rivers,  crossing  prairies, 
and  threading  their  way  through  steep  defiles.  Such 
bands  make  their  winter  home  in  places  like  the 
Black  Hills,  or  similar  mountainous  regions,  where 
the  shelter  and  feed  are  good,  and  where  in  conse 
quence  antelope  have  wintered  in  countless  thou 
sands  for  untold  generations.  Other  bands  do  not 


94  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

travel  for  any  very  great  distance,  but  seek  some 
sheltered  grassy  tableland  in  the  Bad  Lands,  or 
some  well-shielded  valley,  where  their  instinct  and 
experience  teach  them  that  the  snow  does  not  lie 
deep  in  winter.  Once  having  chosen  such  a  place 
they  stand  much  persecution  before  leaving  it. 

One  December,  an  old  hunter  whom  I  knew  told 
me  that  such  a  band  was  wintering  a  few  miles  from 
a  camp  where  two  line-riders  of  the  W  Bar  brand 
were  stationed ;  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  ride  thith 
er  and  kill  a  couple.  The  line  camp  was  twenty  miles 
from  my  ranch;  the  shack  in  which  the  old  hunter 
lived  was  midway  between,  and  I  had  to  stop  there 
to  find  out  the  exact  lay  of  the  land. 

At  dawn,  before  our  early  breakfast,  I  saddled  a 
tough,  shaggy  sorrel  horse;  hastening  indoors  as 
soon  as  the  job  was  over,  to  warm  my  numbed 
fingers.  After  breakfast  I  started,  muffled  in  my 
wolfskin  coat,  with  beaver-fur  cap,  gloves,  and 
shaps,  and  great  felt  overshoes.  The  windless  air 
was  bitter  cold,  the  thermometer  showing  well  be 
low  zero.  Snow  lay  on  the  ground,  leaving  bare 
pa^hes  here  and  there,  but  drifted  deep  in  the  hol 
lows.  Under  the  steel-blue  heavens  the  atmosphere 
had  a  peculiar  glint  as  if  filled  with  myriads  of  tiny 
crystals.  As  I  crossed  the  frozen  river,  immediately 
in  front  of  the  ranch  house,  the  strangely  carved 
tops  of  the  bluffs  were  reddening  palely  in  the  win 
ter  sunrise.  Prairie  fowl  were  perched  in  the  bare 


Hunting  the  Prong-Buck  95 

cottonwoods  along  the  river  brink,  showing  large  in 
the  leafless  branches ;  they  called  and  clucked  to  one 
another. 

Where  the  ground  was  level  and  the  snow  not  too 
deep  I  loped,  and  before  noon  I  reached  the  sheltered 
coulie  where,  with  long  poles  and  bark,  the  hunter 
had  built  his  tepee- wigwam,  as  Eastern  woodsmen 
would  have  called  it.  It  stood  in  a  loose  grove  of 
elms  and  box-alders ;  from  the  branches  of  the  near 
est  trees  hung  saddles  of  frozen  venison.  The  smoke 
rising  from  the  funnel-shaped  top  of  the  tepee 
showed  that  there  was  more  fire  than  usual  within; 
it  is  easy  to  keep  a  good  tepee  warm,  though  it  is 
so  smoky  that  no  one  therein  can  stand  upright.  As 
I  drew  rein  the  skin  door  was  pushed  aside,  and  the 
hard  old  face  and  dried,  battered  body  of  the  hunter 
appeared.  He  greeted  me  with  a  surly  nod,  and 
a  brief  request  to  "light  and  hev  somethin'  to  eat"- 
the  invariable  proffer  of  hospitality  on  the  plains. 
He  wore  a  greasy  buckskin  shirt  or  tunic,  and  an 
odd  cap  of  badger  skin,  from  beneath  which  strayed 
his  tangled  hair ;  age,  rheumatism,  and  the  many  ac 
cidents  and  incredible  fatigue,  hardship,  and  ex 
posure  of  his  past  life  had  crippled  him,  yet  he  still 
possessed  great  power  of  endurance,  and  in  his 
seamed,  weather-scarred  face  his  eyes  burned  fierce 
and  piercing  as  a  hawk's.  Ever  since  early  manhood 
he  had  wandered  over  the  plains,  hunting  and  trap 
ping;  he  had  waged  savage  private  war  against  half 


96  The  Wilderness   Hunter 

the  Indian  tribes  of  the  north;  and  he  had  wedded 
wives  in  each  of  the  tribes  of  the  other  half.  A  few 
years  before  this  time  the  great  buffalo  herds  had 
vanished,  and  the  once  swarming  beaver  had  shared 
the  same  fate;  the  innumerable  horses  and  horned 
stock  of  the  cattlemen,  and  the  daring  rough  riders 
of  the  ranches,  had  supplanted  alike  the  game  and 
the  red  and  white  wanderers  who  had  followed  it 
with  such  fierce  rivalry.  When  the  change  took 
place  the  old  fellow,  with  failing  bodily  powers, 
found  his  life-work  over.  He  had  little  taste  for 
the  career  of  the  desperado,  horse-thief,  highway 
man  and  mankiller,  which  not  a  few  of  the  old 
buffalo  hunters  adopted  when  their  legitimate  occu 
pation  was  gone;  he  scorned  still  more  the  life  of 
vicious  and  idle  semi-criminality  led  by  others  of 
his  former  companions  who  were  of  weaker  mold. 
Yet  he  could  not  do  regular  work.  His  existence 
had  been  one  of  excitement,  adventure,  and  restless 
roaming,  when  it  was  not  passed  in  lazy  ease;  his 
times  of  toil  and  peril  varied  by  fits  of  brutal  revelry. 
He  had  no  kin,  no  ties  of  any  kind.  He  would 
accept  no  help,  for  his  wants  were  very  few,  and  he 
was  utterly  self-reliant.  He  got  meat,  clothing,  and 
bedding  from  the  antelope  and  deer  he  killed;  the 
spare  hides  and  venison  he  bartered  for  what  little 
else  he  needed.  So  he  built  him  his  tepee  in  one  of 
the  most  secluded  parts  of  the  Bad  Lands,  where  he 
led  the  life  of  a  solitary  hunter,  awaiting  in  grim 


Hunting  the  Prong-Buck  97 

loneliness  the  death  which  he  knew  to  be  near  at 
hand. 

I  unsaddled  and  picketed  my  horse,  and  followed 
the  old  hunter  into  his  smoky  tepee ;  sat  down  on  the 
pile  of  worn  buffalo  robes  which  formed  his  bedding, 
and  waited  in  silence  while  he  fried  some  deer  meat, 
and  boiled  some  coffee — he  was  out  of  flour.  As 
I  ate,  he  gradually  unbent  and  talked  quite  freely, 
and  before  I  left  he  told  me  exactly  where  to  find 
the  band,  which  he  assured  me  was  located  for  the 
winter,  and  would  not  leave  unless  much  harried. 

After  a  couple  of  hours'  rest  I  again  started, 
and  pushed  out  to  the  end  of  the  Bad  Lands.  Here, 
as  there  had  been  no  wind,  I  knew  I  should  find  in 
the  snow  the  tracks  of  one  of  the  riders  from  the 
line  camp,  whose  beat  lay  along  the  edge  of  the 
prairie  for  some  eight  miles,  until  it  met  the  beat  of 
a  rider  from  the  line  camp  next  above.  As  nightfall 
came  on  it  grew  even  colder ;  long  icicles  hung  from 
the  lips  of  my  horse;  and  I  shivered  slightly  in  my 
fur  coat.  I  had  reckoned  the  distance  ill,  and  it  was 
dusk  when  I  struck  the  trail;  but  my  horse  at  once 
turned  along  it  of  his  own  accord  and  began  to  lope. 
Half  an  hour  later  I  saw  through  the  dark  what 
looked  like  a  spark  on  the  side  of  a  hill.  Toward  this 
my  horse  turned ;  and  in  another  moment  a  whinny 
ing  from  in  front  showed  I  was  near  the  camp.  The 
light  was  shining  through  a  small  window,  the  camp 
itself  being  a  dugout  with  a  log  roof  and  front — a 

5  VOL.  II. 


98  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

kind  of  frontier  building  always  warm  in  winter. 
After  turning  my  horse  into  the  rough  log  stable 
with  the  horses  of  the  two  cowboys,  I  joined  the 
latter  at  supper  inside  the  dugout;  being  received 
of  course  with  hearty  cordiality.  After  the  intense 
cold  outside  the  warmth  within  was  almost  oppres 
sive,  for  the  fire  was  roaring  in  the  big  stone  fire 
place.  The  bunks  were  broad;  my  two  friends 
turned  into  one,  and  I  was  given  the  other,  with 
plenty  of  bedding;  so  that  my  sleep  was  sound. 

We  had  breakfasted  and  saddled  our  horses  and 
were  off  by  dawn  next  morning.  My  companions, 
muffled  in  furs,  started  in  opposite  directions  to  ride 
their  lonely  beats,  while  I  steered  for  my  hunting- 
ground.  It  was  a  lowering  and  gloomy  day;  at 
sunrise  pale,  lurid  sundogs  hung  in  the  glimmering 
mist;  gusts  of  wind  moaned  through  the  ravines. 

At  last  I  reached  a  row  of  bleak  hills,  and  from 
a  ridge  looked  cautiously  down  on  the  chain  of 
plateaus,  where  I  had  been  told  I  should  see  the 
antelope.  Sure  enough,  there  they  were,  to  the 
number  of  several  hundred,  scattered  over  the  level 
snow-streaked  surface  of  the  nearest  and  largest 
plateau,  greedily  cropping  the  thick,  short  grass. 
Leaving  my  horse  tied  in  a  hollow  I  speedily  stalked 
up  a  coulie  to  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  nearest 
band  and  killed  a  good  buck.  Instantly  all  the  ante 
lope  in  sight  ran  together  into  a  thick  mass  and 
raced  away  from  me,  until  they  went  over  the  oppo- 


Hunting  the   Prong-Buck  99 

site  edge  of  the  plateau ;  but  almost  as  soon  as  they 
did  so  they  were  stopped  by  deep  drifts  of  powdered 
snow,  and  came  back  to  the  summit  of  the  tableland. 
They  then  circled  round  the  edge  at  a  gallop,  and 
finally  broke  madly  by  me,  jostling  one  another  in 
their  frantic  haste,  and  crossed  by  a  small  ridge  into 
the  next  plateau  beyond;  as  they  went  by  I  shot  a 
yearling. 

I  now  had  all  the  venison  I  wished,  and  would 
shoot  no  more,  but  I  was  curious  to  see  how  the  an 
telope  would  act,  and  so  walked  after  them.  They 
ran  about  half  a  mile,  and  then  the  whole  herd,  of 
several  hundred  individuals,  wheeled  into  line  front 
ing  me,  like  so  many  cavalry,  and  stood  motionless, 
the  white  and  brown  bands  on  their  necks  looking 
like  the  facings  on  a  uniform.  As  I  walked  near 
they  again  broke  and  rushed  to  the  end  of  the  valley. 
Evidently  they  feared  to  leave  the  flats  for  the  broken 
country  beyond,  where  the  rugged  hills  were  riven 
by  gorges  in  some  of  which  snow  lay  deep  even  thus 
early  in  the  season.  Accordingly,  after  galloping  a 
couple  of  times  round  the  valley,  they  once  more 
broke  by  me,  at  short  range,  and  tore  back  along  the 
plateaus  to  that  on  which  I  had  first  found  them. 
Their  evident  and  extreme  reluctance  to  venture 
into  the  broken  country  round  about  made  me  read 
ily  understand  the  tales  I  had  heard  of  game  butch 
ers  killing  over  a  hundred  individuals  at  a  time  out 
of  a  herd  so  situated. 


ioo  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

I  walked  back  to  my  game,  dressed  it,  and  lashed 
the  saddles  and  hams  behind  me  on  my  horse;  I 
had  chosen  old  Sorrel  Joe  for  the  trip  because  he 
was  strong,  tough,  and  quiet.  Then  I  started  for 
the  ranch,  keeping  to  the  prairie  as  long  as  I  could, 
because  there  the  going  was  easier;  sometimes  I 
rode,  sometimes  I  ran  on  foot,  leading  Sorrel  Toe. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  as  I  rode  over  a  roll  in  the 
prairie  I  saw  ahead  of  me  a  sight  very  unusual  at 
that  season ;  a  small  emigrant  train  going  westward. 
There  were  three  white-topped  prairie  schooners, 
containing  the  household  goods,  the  tow-headed 
children,  and  the  hard-faced,  bony  women ;  the  tired 
horses  were  straining  wearily  in  the  traces;  the 
bearded,  moody  men  walked  alongside.  They  had 
been  belated  by  sickness,  and  the  others  of  their  com 
pany  had  gone  ahead  to  take  up  claims  along  the 
Yellowstone ;  now  they  themselves  were  pushing  for 
ward  in  order  to  reach  the  holdings  of  their  friends 
before  the  first  deep  snows  stopped  all  travel.  They 
had  no  time  to  halt;  for  there  were  still  two  or 
three  miles  to  go  that  evening  before  they  could 
find  a  sheltered  resting-place  with  fuel,  grass,  and 
water.  A  little  while  after  passing  them  I  turned 
in  the  saddle  and  looked  back.  The  lonely  little 
train  stood  out  sharply  on  the  sky-line,  the  wagons 
looming  black  against  the  cold  red  west  as  they 
toiled  steadily  onward  across  the  snowy  plains. 

Night  soon  fell;  but  I  cared  little,  for  I  was  on 


Hunting  the  Prong-Buck  101 

ground  I  knew.  The  old  horse  threaded  his  way  at 
a  lope  along  the  familiar  game  trails  and  cattle 
paths ;  in  a  couple  of  hours  I  caught  the  gleam  from 
the  firelit  windows  of  the  ranch  house.  No  man 
who,  for  his  good-fortune,  has  at  times  in  his  life 
endured  toil  and  hardship,  ever  fails  to  appreciate 
the  strong  elemental  pleasures  of  rest  after  labor, 
food  after  hunger,  warmth  and  shelter  after  bitter 
cold. 

So  much  for  the  winter  hunting.  But  in  the  fall, 
when  the  grass  is  dry  as  tinder,  the  antelope  hunter, 
like  other  plainsmen,  must  sometimes  face  fire  in 
stead  of  frost.  Fire  is  one  of  the  most  dreaded  ene 
mies  of  the  ranchmen  on  the  cattle  ranges ;  and  fight 
ing  a  big  prairie  fire  is  a  work  of  extraordinary 
labor,  and  sometimes  of  danger.  The  line  of  flame, 
especially  when  seen  at  night,  undulating  like  a  ser 
pent,  is  very  beautiful;  though  it  lacks  the  terror 
and  grandeur  of  the  great  forest  fires. 

One  October,  Ferguson  and  I,  with  one  of  the 
cow-hands,  and  a  friend  from  the  East,  took  the 
wagon  for  an  antelope  hunt  in  the  broken  country 
between  the  Little  Missouri  and  the  Beaver.  The 
cowboy  drove  the  wagon  to  a  small  spring,  near 
some  buttes  which  are  well  distinguished  by  a  num 
ber  of  fossil  tree-stumps ;  while  the  rest  of  us,  who 
were  mounted  on  good  horses,  made  a  circle  after 
antelope.  We  found  none,  and  rode  on  to  camp, 
reaching  it  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  We 


102  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

had  noticed  several  columns  of  smoke  in  the  south 
east,  showing  that  prairie  fires  were  under  way; 
but  we  thought  that  they  were  too  far  off  to  endan 
ger  our  camp,  and  accordingly  unsaddled  our  horses 
and  sat  down  to  a  dinner  of  bread,  beans,  and  coffee. 
Before  we  were  through  the  smoke  began  to  pour 
over  a  ridge  a  mile  distant  in  such  quantities  that 
we  ran  thither  with  our  slickers,  hoping  to  find  some 
stretch  of  broken  ground  where  the  grass  was  sparse, 
and  where  we  could  fight  the  fire  with  effect.  Our 
hopes  were  vain.  Before  we  reached  the  ridge  the 
fire  came  over  its  crest,  and  ran  down  in  a  long 
tongue  between  two  scoria  buttes.  Here  the  grass 
was  quite  short  and  thin,  and  we  did  our  best  to 
beat  out  the  flames ;  but  they  gradually  gained  on  us, 
and  as  they  reached  the  thicker  grass  lower  down 
the  slope,  they  began  to  roar  and  dart  forwrard  in  a 
way  that  bade  us  pay  heed  to  our  own  safety.  Fi 
nally  they  reached  a  winding  line  of  brushwood  in 
the  bottom  of  the  coulie;  and  as  this  burst  into  a 
leaping  blaze  we  saw  it  was  high  time  to  look  to  the 
safety  of  our  camp,  and  ran  back  to  it  at  top  speed. 
Ferguson,  who  had  been  foremost  in  fighting  the 
fire,  was  already  scorched  and  blackened. 

We  were  camped  on  the  wagon  trail  which  leads 
along  the  divide  almost  due  south  to  Sentinel  Butte. 
The  line  of  fire  was  fanned  by  a  southeasterly  breeze, 
and  was  therefore  advancing  diagonally  to  the  di 
vide.  If  we  could  drive  the  wagon  southward  on 


Hunting  the   Prong-Buck  103 

the  trail  in  time  to  get  it  past  the  fire  before  the 
latter  reached  the  divide,  we  would  be  to  windward 
of  the  flames,  and  therefore  in  safety.  Accordingly, 
while  the  others  were  hastily  harnessing  the  team, 
and  tossing  the  bedding  and  provisions  into  the 
wagon,  I  threw  the  saddle  on  my  horse,  and  gal 
loped  down  the  trail,  to  see  if  there  was  yet  time  to 
adopt  this  expedient.  I  soon  found  that  there  was 
not.  Half  a  mile  from  camp  the  trail  dipped  into  a 
deep  coulie,  where  fair-sized  trees  and  dense  under 
growth  made  a  long  winding  row  of  brush  and  tim 
ber.  The  trail  led  right  under  the  trees  at  the  upper 
end  of  this  coulie.  As  I  galloped  by  I  saw  that  the 
fire  had  struck  the  trees  a  quarter  of  a  mile  below 
me ;  in  the  dried  timber  it  instantly  sprang  aloft  like 
a  giant,  and  roared  in  a  thunderous  monotone  as  it 
swept  up  the  coulie.  I  galloped  to  the  hill  ridge 
ahead,  saw  that  the  fire  line  had  already  reached  the 
divide,  and  turned  my  horse  sharp  on  his  haunches. 
As  I  again  passed  under  the  trees,  the  fire,  running 
like  a  race-horse  in  the  brush,  had  reached  the  road ; 
its  breath  was  hot  in  my  face ;  tongues  of  quivering 
flame  leaped  over  my  head  and  kindled  the  grass  on 
the  hillside  fifty  yards  away. 

When  I  got  back  to  camp  Ferguson  had  taken 
measures  for  the  safety  of  the  wagon.  He  had 
moved  it  across  the  coulie,  which  at  this  point  had 
a  wet  bottom,  making  a  bar  to  the  progress  of  the 
flames  until  they  had  time  to  work  across  lower 


104  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

down.  Meanwhile  we  fought  to  keep  the  fire  from 
entering  the  well-grassed  space  on  the  hither  side 
of  the  coulie,  between  it  and  a  row  of  scoria  buttes. 
Favored  by  a  streak  of  clay  ground,  where  the  grass 
was  sparse,  we  succeeded  in  beating  out  the  flame  as 
it  reached  this  clay  streak,  and  again  beating  it  out 
when  it  ran  round  the  buttes  and  began  to  back  up 
toward  us  against  the  wind.  Then  we  recrossed 
the  coulie  with  the  wagon,  before  the  fire  swept 
up  the  further  side;  and  so,  when  the  flames  passed 
by,  they  left  us  camped  on  a  green  oasis  in  the 
midst  of  a  charred,  smoking  desert.  We  thus  saved 
some  good  grazing  for  our  horses. 

But  our  fight  with  the  fire  had  only  begun.  No 
stockman  will  see  a  fire  waste  the  range  and  destroy 
the  winter  feed  of  the  stock  without  spending  every 
ounce  of  his  strength  in  the  effort  to  put  a  stop  to 
its  ravages — even  when,  as  in  our  case,  the  force  of 
men  and  horses  at  hand  is  so  small  as  to  offer  only 
the  very  slenderest  hope  of  success. 

We  set  about  the  task  in  the  way  customary  in 
the  cattle  country.  It  is  impossible  for  any  but  a 
very  large  force  to  make  head  against  a  prairie  fire 
while  there  is  any  wind;  but  the  wind  usually  fails 
after  nightfall,  and  accordingly  the  main  fight  is 
generally  waged  during  the  hours  of  darkness. 

Before  dark  we  drove  to  camp  and  shot  a  stray 
steer,  and  then  split  its  carcass  in  two  lengthwise 
with  an  axe.  After  sundown  the  wind  lulled;  and 


Hunting  the  Prong-Buck  105 

we  started  toward  the  line  of  fire,  which  was  work 
ing  across  a  row  of  broken  grassy  hills,  three-quar 
ters  of  a  mile  distant.  Two  of  us  were  on  horse 
back,  dragging  a  half  carcass,  bloody  side  down,  by 
means  of  ropes  leading  from  our  saddle-horns  to  the 
fore  and  hind  legs;  the  other  two  followed  on  foot 
with  slickers  and  wet  saddle  blankets.  There  was 
a  reddish  glow  in  the  night  air,  and  the  waving, 
bending  lines  of  flame  showed  in  great  bright  curves 
against  the  hillside  ahead  of  us. 

When  we  reached  them,  we  found  the  fire  burning 
in  a  long,  continuous  line.  It  was  not  making  rapid 
headway,  for  the  air  was  still,  and  the  flames  stood 
upright,  two  or  three  feet  high.  Lengthening  the 
ropes,  one  of  us  spurred  his  horse  across  the  fire 
line  and  then,  wheeling,  we  dragged  the  carcass 
along  it;  one  horseman  being  on  the  burnt  ground, 
and  one  on  the  unburnt  grass,  while  the  body  of  the 
steer  lay  lengthwise  across  the  line.  The  weight  and 
the  blood  smothered  the  fire  as  we  twitched  the  car 
cass  over  the  burning  grass;  and  the  two  men  fol 
lowing  behind  with  their  blankets  and  slickers  read 
ily  beat  out  any  isolated  tufts  of  flame. 

The  fire  made  the  horses  wild,  and  it  was  not 
always  easy  to  manage  both  them  and  the  ropes,  so 
as  to  keep  the  carcass  true  on  the  line.  Sometimes 
there  would  be  a  slight  puff  of  wind,  and  then  the 
man  on  the  grass  side  of  the  line  ran  the  risk  of 
a  scorching.  We  wrere  blackened  writh  smoke,  and 


io6  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

the  taut  ropes  hurt  our  thighs;  while  at  times  the 
plunging  horses  tried  to  buck  or  bolt.  It  was  worse 
when  we  came  to  some  deep  gully  or  ravine,  break 
ing  the  line  of  fire.  Into  this  we  of  course  had  to 
plunge,  so  as  to  get  across  to  the  fire  on  the  other 
side.  After  the  glare  of  the  flame  the  blackness  of 
the  ravine  was  Stygian;  we  could  see  nothing,  and 
simply  spurred  our  horses  into  it  anywhere,  taking 
our  chances.  Down  we  would  go,  stumbling,  slid 
ing,  and  pitching,  over  cut  banks  and  into  holes  and 
bushes,  while  the  carcass  bounded  behind,  now  catch 
ing  on  a  stump,  and  now  fetching  loose  with  a 
"pluck"  that  brought  it  full  on  the  horses'  haunches, 
driving  them  nearly  crazy  with  fright.  The  pull 
up  the  opposite  bank  was,  if  anything,  worse. 

By  midnight  the  half  carcass  was  worn  through ; 
but  we  had  stifled  the  fire  in  the  comparatively  level 
country  to  the  eastward.  Back  we  went  to  camp, 
drank  huge  draughts  of  muddy  water,  devoured 
roast  ox-ribs,  and  dragged  out  the  other  half  car 
cass  to  fight  the  fire  on  the  west.  But  after  hours 
of  wearing  labor  we  found  ourselves  altogether 
baffled  by  the  exceeding  roughness  of  the  ground. 
There  was  some  little  risk  to  us  who  were  on  horse 
back,  dragging  the  carcass;  we  had  to  feel  our  way 
along  knife-like  ridges  in  the  dark,  one  ahead  and 
the  other  behind,  while  the  steer  dangled  over  the 
precipice  on  one  side;  and  in  going  down  the  buttes 
and  into  the  canyons  only  by  extreme  care  could  we 


Hunting  the   Prong-Buck  107 

avoid  getting-  tangled  in  the  ropes  and  rolling  down 
in  a  heap.  Moreover  the  fire  was  in  such  rough 
places  that  the  carcass  could  not  be  twitched  fairly 
over  it,  and  so  we  could  not  put  it  out.  Before 
dawn  we  were  obliged  to  abandon  our  fruitless  ef 
forts  and  seek  camp,  stiffened  and  \veary.  From 
a  hill  we  looked  back  through  the  pitchy  night  at 
the  fire  we  had  failed  to  conquer.  It  had  been 
broken  into  many  lines  by  the  roughness  of  the 
chasm-strewn  and  hilly  country.  Of  these  lines  of 
flame  some  were  in  advance,  some  behind,  some 
rushing  forward  in  full  blast  and  fury,  some  stand 
ing  still;  here  and  there  one  wheeling  toward  a 
flank,  or  burning  in  a  semicircle,  round  an  isolated 
hill.  Some  of  the  lines  \vere  flickering  out;  gaps 
were  showing  in  others.  In  the  darkness  it  looked 
like  the  rush  of  a  mighty  army,  bearing  triumph 
antly  onward,  in  spite  of  a  resistance  so  stubborn 
as  to  break  its  formation  into  many  fragments  and 
cause  each  one  of  them  to  wage  its  own  battle  for 
victory  or  defeat. 

On  the  wide  plains  where  the  prong-buck  dwells 
the  hunter  must  sometimes  face  thirst,  as  well  as  fire 
and  frost.  The  only  time  I  ever  really  suffered  from 
thirst  was  while  hunting  prong-buck. 

It  was  late  in  the  summer.  I  was  with  the  ranch 
wagon  on  the  way  to  join  a  round-up,  and  as  we 
were  out  of  meat  I  started  for  a  day's  hunt.  Before 
leaving  in  the  morning  I  helped  to  haul  the  wagon 


io8  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

across  the  river.  It  was  fortunate  I  stayed,  as  it 
turned  out.  There  was  no  regular  ford  where  we 
made  the  crossing;  we  anticipated  no  trouble,  as 
the  water  was  very  low,  the  season  being  dry.  How 
ever,  we  struck  a  quicksand,  in  which  the  wagon  set 
tled,  while  the  frightened  horses  floundered  help 
lessly.  All  the  riders  at  once  got  their  ropes  on  the 
wagon,  and  hauling  from  the  saddle,  finally  pulled 
it  through.  This  took  time;  and  it  was  ten  o'clock 
when  I  rode  away  from  the  river,  at  which  my  horse 
and  I  had  just  drunk — our  last  drink  for  over 
twenty-four  hours  as  it  turned  out. 

After  two  or  three  hours'  ride,  up  winding  coulies, 
and  through  the  scorched  desolation  of  patches  of 
Bad  Lands,  I  reached  the  rolling  prairie.  The  heat 
and  drought  had  long  burned  the  short  grass  dull 
brown;  the  bottoms  of  what  had  been  pools  were 
covered  with  hard,  dry,  cracked  earth.  The  day 
was  cloudless,  and  the  heat  oppressive.  There  were 
many  antelope,  but  I  got  only  one  shot,  breaking 
a  buck's  leg;  and  though  I  followed  it  for  a  couple 
of  hours  I  could  not  overtake  it.  By  this  time  it 
was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  I  was  far  away  from 
the  river;  so  I  pushed  for  a  creek,  in  the  bed  of 
which  I  had  always  found  pools  of  water,  especially 
toward  the  head,  as  is  usual  with  plains  water 
courses.  To  my  chagrin,  however,  they  all  proved 
to  be  dry;  and  though  I  rode  up  the  creek  bed  to 
ward  the  head,  carefully  searching  for  any  sign  of 


Hunting  the  Prong-Buck  109 

water,  night  closed  on  me  before  I  found  any.  For 
two  or  three  hours  I  stumbled  on,  leading  my  horse, 
in  my  fruitless  search;  then  a  tumble  over  a  cut 
bank  in  the  dark  warned  me  that  I  might  as  well 
stay  where  I  was  for  the  rest  of  the  warm  night. 
Accordingly  I  unsaddled  the  horse,  and  tied  him  to 
a  sage  brush ;  after  a  while  he  began  to  feed  on  the 
dewy  grass.  At  first  I  was  too  thirsty  to  sleep. 
Finally  I  fell  into  slumber,  and  when  I  awoke  at 
dawn  I  felt  no  thirst.  For  an  hour  or  two  more  I 
continued  my  search  for  water  in  the  creek  bed; 
then  abandoned  it  and  rode  straight  for  the  river. 
By  the  time  we  reached  it  my  thirst  had  come  back 
with  redoubled  force,  my  mouth  was  parched,  and 
the  horse  was  in  quite  as  bad  a  plight;  we  rushed 
down  to  the  brink,  and  it  seemed  as  if  we  could 
neither  of  us  ever  drink  our  fill  of  the  tepid,  rather 
muddy  water.  Of  course  this  experience  was  merely 
unpleasant;  thirst  is  not  a  source  of  real  danger 
in  the  plains  country  proper,  whereas  in  the  hideous 
deserts  that  extend  from  southern  Idaho  through 
Utah  and  Nevada  to  Arizona,  it  ever  menaces  with 
death  the  hunter  and  explorer. 

In  the  plains  the  weather  is  apt  to  be  in  extremes ; 
the  heat  is  tropical,  the  cold  arctic,  and  the  droughts 
are  relieved  by  furious  floods.  These  are  generally 
most  severe  and  lasting  in  the  spring,  after  the  melt 
ing  of  the  snow;  and  fierce  local  freshets  follow 
the  occasional  cloudbursts.  The  large  rivers  then 


no  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

become  wholly  impassable,  and  even  the  smaller 
are  formidable  obstacles.  It  is  not  easy  to  get  cat 
tle  across  a  swollen  stream,  where  the  current  runs 
like  a  turbid  mill-race  over  the  bed  of  shifting  quick 
sand.  Once  five  of  us  took  a  thousand  head  of  trail 
steers  across  the  Little  Missouri  when  the  river  was 
up,  and  it  was  no  light  task.  The  muddy  current 
was  boiling  past  the  banks,  covered  with  driftwood 
and  foul,  yellow  froth,  and  the  frightened  cattle 
shrank  from  entering  it.  At  last,  by  hard  riding, 
with  much  loud  shouting  and  swinging  of  ropes,  we 
got  the  leaders  in,  and  the  whole  herd  followed. 
After  them  we  went  in  our  turn,  the  horses  swim 
ming  at  one  moment,  and  the  next  staggering  and 
floundering  through  the  quicksand.  I  was  riding 
my  pet  cutting  horse,  Muley,  which  has  the  provok 
ing  habit  of  making  great  bounds  where  the  water 
is  just  not  deep  enough  for  swimming;  once  he  al 
most  unseated  me.  Some  of  the  cattle  were  caught 
by  the  currents  and  rolled  over  and  over;  most  of 
these  we  were  able,  with  the  help  of  our  ropes,  to 
put  on  their  feet  again;  only  one  was  drowned,  or 
rather  choked  in  a  quicksand.  Many  swam  down 
stream,  and  in  consequence  struck  a  difficult  land 
ing,  where  the  river  ran  under  a  cut  bank ;  these  we 
had  to  haul  out  with  our  ropes.  Both  men  and 
horses  were  well  tired  by  the  time  the  whole  herd 
was  across. 

Although  I  have  often  had  a  horse  down  in  quick- 


Hunting  the  Prong-Buck  in 

sand,  or  in  crossing  a  swollen  river,  and  have  had 
to  work  hard  to  save  him,  I  have  never  myself  lost 
one  under  such  circumstances.  Yet  once  I  saw  the 
horse  of  one  of  my  men  drown  under  him  directly 
in  front  of  the  ranch  house,  while  he  was  trying  to 
cross  the  river.  This  was  in  early  spring,  soon  after 
the  ice  had  broken. 

When  making  long  wagon  trips  over  the  great 
plains,  antelope  often  offer  the  only  source  of  meat 
supply,  save  for  occasional  water  fowl,  sage  fowl, 
and  prairie  fowl — the  sharp-tailed  prairie  fowl,  be 
it  understood.  This  is  the  characteristic  grouse  of 
the  cattle  country ;  the  true  prairie  fowl  is  a  bird  of 
the  farming  land  further  east. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  summer  of  '92  I  found  it 
necessary  to  travel  from  my  ranch  to  the  Black  Hills, 
some  two  hundred  miles  south.  The  ranch  wagon 
went  with  me,  driven  by  an  all-round  plainsman,  a 
man  of  iron  nerves  and  varied  past,  the  sheriff  of 
our  county.  He  was  an  old  friend  of  mine ;  at  one 
time  I  had  served  as  deputy-sheriff  for  the  northern 
end  of  the  county.  In  the  wagon  we  carried  our 
food  and  camp  kit,  and  our  three  rolls  of  bedding, 
each  wrapped  in  a  thick,  nearly  waterproof  canvas 
sheet;  we  had  a  tent,  but  we  never  needed  it.  The 
load  being  light,  the  wagon  was  drawn  by  but  a 
span  of  horses,  a  pair  of  wild  runaways,  tough,  and 
good  travelers.  My  foreman  and  I  rode  beside  the 
wagon  on  our  wiry,  unkempt,  unshod  cattle-ponies. 


ii2  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

They  carried  us  all  day  at  a  rack,  pace,  single-foot, 
or  slow  lope,  varied  by  rapid  galloping  when  we 
made  long  circles  after  game;  the  trot,  the  favorite 
gait  with  Eastern  park-riders,  is  disliked  by  all  peo 
ples  who  have  to  do  much  of  their  life-work  in  the 
saddle. 

The  first  day's  ride  was  not  attractive.  The  heat 
was  intense  and  the  dust  stifling,  as  we  had  to  drive 
some  loose  horses  for  the  first  few  miles,  and  after 
ward  to  ride  up  and  down  the  sandy  river  bed,  where 
the  cattle  had  gathered,  to  look  over  some  young 
steers  we  had  put  on  the  range  the  preceding  spring. 
When  we  did  camp  it  was  by  a  pool  of  stagnant 
water,  in  a  creek  bottom,  and  the  mosquitoes  were 
a  torment.  Nevertheless,  as  evening  fell,  it  was 
pleasant  to  climb  a  little  knoll  nearby  and  gaze  at 
the  rows  of  strangely  colored  buttes,  grass-clad,  or 
of  bare  earth  and  scoria,  their  soft  reds  and  purples 
showing  as  through  a  haze,  and  their  irregular  out 
lines  gradually  losing  their  sharpness  in  the  fading 
twilight. 

Next  morning  the  weather  changed,  growing 
cooler,  and  we  left  the  tangle  of  ravines  and  Bad 
Lands,  striking  out  across  the  vast  sea-like  prairies. 
Hour  after  hour,  under  the  bright  sun,  the  wagon 
drew  slowly  ahead,  over  the  immense  rolling 
stretches  of  short  grass,  dipping  down  each  long 
slope  until  it  reached  the  dry,  imperfectly  outlined 
creek  bed  at  the  bottom, — wholly  devoid  of  water 


Hunting  the  Prong-Buck  113 

and  without  so  much  as  a  shrub  of  wood, — and  then 
ascending  the  gentle  rise  on  the  other  side  until  at 
last  it  topped  the  broad  divide,  or  watershed,  be 
yond  which  lay  the  shallow  winding  coulies  of  an 
other  creek  system.  From  each  rise  of  ground  we 
looked  far  and  wide  over  the  sunlit  prairie,  with  its 
interminable  undulations.  The  sicklebill  curlews, 
which  in  spring,  while  breeding,  hover  above  the 
traveling  horseman  with  ceaseless  clamor,  had  for 
the  most  part  gone  southward.  We  saw  only  one 
small  party  of  half  a  dozen  birds;  they  paid  little 
heed  to  us,  but  piped  to  one  another,  making  short 
flights,  and  on  alighting  stood  erect,  first  spreading 
and  then  folding  and  setting  their  wings  with  a  slow, 
graceful  motion.  Little  horned  larks  continually  ran 
along  the  ruts  of  the  faint  wagon  track,  just  ahead 
of  the  team,  and  twittered  plaintively  as  they  rose, 
while  flocks  of  long-spurs  swept  hither  and  thither, 
in  fitful,  irregular  flight. 

My  foreman  and  I  usually  rode  far  off  to  one  side 
of  the  wagon,  looking  out  for  antelope.  Of  these 
we  at  first  saw  few,  but  they  grew  more  plentiful  as 
we  journeyed  onward,  approaching  a  big,  scantily 
wooded  creek,  where  I  had  found  the  prong-horn 
abundant  in  previous  seasons.  They  were  very  wary 
and  watchful  whether  going  singly  or  in  small  par 
ties,  and  the  lay  of  the  land  made  it  exceedingly  diffi 
cult  to  get  within  range.  The  last  time  I  had  hunted 
in  this  neighborhood  was  in  the  fall,  at  the  height 


H4  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

of  the  rutting  season.  Prong-bucks,  even  more  than 
other  game,  seem  fairly  maddened  by  erotic  excite 
ment.  At  the  time  of  my  former  hunt  they  were  in 
ceaseless  motion ;  each  master  buck  being  incessantly 
occupied  in  herding  his  harem,  and  fighting  would- 
be  rivals,  while  single  bucks  chased  single  does  as 
greyhounds  chase  hares,  or  else,  if  no  does  were  in 
sight,  from  sheer  excitement  ran  to  and  fro  as  if 
crazy,  racing  at  full  speed  in  one  direction,  then  halt 
ing,  wheeling,  and  tearing  back  again  just  as  hard 
as  they  could  go. 

At  this  time,  however,  the  rut  was  still  some 
weeks  off,  and  all  the  bucks  had  to  do  was  to  feed 
and  keep  a  lookout  for  enemies.  Try  my  best,  I 
could  not  get  within  less  than  four  or  five  hundred 
yards,  and  though  I  took  a  number  of  shots  at  these, 
or  at  even  longer  distances,  I  missed.  If  a  man  is 
out  merely  for  a  day's  hunt,  and  has  all  the  time  he 
wishes,  he  will  not  scare  the  game  and  waste  car 
tridges  by  shooting  at  such  long  ranges,  preferring 
to  spend  half  a  day  or  more  in  patient  waiting  and 
careful  stalking;  but  if  he  is  traveling,  and  is  there 
fore  cramped  for  time,  he  must  take  his  chances,  even 
at  the  cost  of  burning  a  good  deal  of  powder. 

I  was  finally  helped  to  success  by  a  characteristic 
freak  of  the  game  I  was  following.  No  other  ani 
mals  are  as  keen-sighted,  or  are  normally  as  wary 
as  prong-horns ;  but  no  others  are  so  whimsical  and 
odd  in  their  behavior  at  times,  or  so  subject  to  fits 


Hunting  the   Prong-Buck  115 

of  the  most  stupid  curiosity  and  panic.  Late  in  the 
afternoon,  on  topping  a  rise  I  saw  two  good  bucks 
racing  off  about  three  hundred  yards  to  one  side;  I 
sprang  to  the  ground,  and  fired  three  shots  at  them 
in  vain,  as  they  ran  like  quarter  horses  until  they 
disappeared  over  a  slight  swell.  In  a  minute,  how 
ever,  back  they  came,  suddenly  appearing  over  the 
crest  of  the  same  swell,  immediately  in  front  of  me, 
and,  as  I  afterward  found  by  pacing,  some  three 
hundred  and  thirty  yards  away.  They  stood  side 
by  side  facing  me,  and  remained  motionless,  unheed 
ing  the  crack  of  the  Winchester ;  I  aimed  at  the  right- 
hand  one,  but  a  front  shot  of  the  kind,  at  such  a 
distance,  is  rather  difficult,  and  it  was  not  until  I 
fired  for  the  fourth  time  that  he  sank  back  out  of 
sight.  I  could  not  tell  whether  I  had  killed  him, 
and  took  two  shots  at  his  mate,  as  the  latter  went 
off,  but  without  effect.  Running  forward,  I  found 
the  first  one  dead,  the  bullet  having  gone  through 
him  lengthwise ;  the  other  did  not  seem  satisfied  even 
yet,  and  kept  hanging  round  in  the  distance  for  some 
minutes,  looking  at  us. 

I  had  thus  bagged  one  prong-buck,  as  the  net  out 
come  of  the  expenditure  of  fourteen  cartridges. 
This  was  certainly  not  good  shooting;  but  neither 
was  it  as  bad  as  it  would  seem  to  the  man  inexpe 
rienced  in  antelope  hunting.  When  fresh  meat  is 
urgently  needed,  and  when  time  is  too  short,  the 
hunter  who  is  after  antelope  in  an  open,  flattish  coun- 


n6  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

try  must  risk  many  long  shots.  In  no  other  kind 
of  hunting  is  there  so  much  long-distance  shooting, 
or  so  many  shots  fired  for  every  head  of  game 
bagged. 

Throwing  the  buck  into  the  wagon,  we  continued 
our  journey  across  the  prairie,  no  longer  following 
any  road,  and  before  sunset  jolted  down  toward  the 
big  creek  for  which  we  had  been  heading.  There 
were  many  water-holes  therein,  and  timber  of  con 
siderable  size;  box-alder  and  ash  grew  here  and 
there  in  clumps  and  fringes,  beside  the  serpentine 
curves  of  the  nearly  dry  torrent  bed,  the  growth 
being  thickest  under  the  shelter  of  the  occasional  low 
bluffs.  We  drove  down  to  a  heavily  grassed  bot 
tom,  near  a  deep,  narrow  pool,  with,  at  one  end,  that 
rarest  of  luxuries  in  the  plains  country,  a  bubbling 
spring  of  pure,  cold  water.  With  plenty  of  wood, 
delicious  water,  ample  feed  for  the  horses,  and  fresh 
meat  we  had  every  comfort  and  luxury  incident  to 
camp  life  in  good  weather.  The  bedding  was  tossed 
out  on  a  smooth  spot  beside  the  wagon;  the  horses 
were  watered  and  tethered  to  picket  pins  where  the 
feed  was  best ;  water  was  fetched  from  the  spring ;  a 
deep  hole  was  dug  for  the  fire,  and  the  grass  round 
about  carefully  burned  off ;  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  bread  was  baking  in  the  Dutch  oven,  the  po 
tatoes  were  boiling,  antelope  steaks  were  sizzling  in 
the  frying-pan,  and  the  kettle  was  ready  for  the 
tea.  After  supper,  eaten  with  the  relish  known  well 


Hunting  the   Prong-Buck  117 

to  every  hard-working  and  successful  hunter,  we  sat 
for  half  an  hour  or  so  round  the  fire,  and  then  turned 
in  under  the  blankets,  pulled  the  tarpaulins  over  us, 
and  listened  drowsily  to  the  wailing  of  the  coyotes 
until  we  fell  sound  asleep. 

We  determined  to  stay  in  this  camp  all  day,  so 
as  to  try  and  kill  another  prong-buck,  as  we  would 
soon  be  past  the  good  hunting  grounds.  I  did 
not  have  to  go  far  for  my  game  next  morning,  for 
soon  after  breakfast,  while  sitting  on  my  canvas  bag 
cleaning  my  rifle,  the  sheriff  suddenly  called  to  me 
that  a  bunch  of  antelope  were  coming  toward  us. 
Sure  enough  there  they  were,  four  in  number,  rather 
over  half  a  mile  off,  on  the  first  bench  of  the  prairie, 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  back  from  the  creek, 
leisurely  feeding  in  our  direction.  In  a  minute  or 
two  they  were  out  of  sight,  and  I  instantly  ran  along 
the  creek  toward  them  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and 
then  crawled  up  a  short  shallow  coulie,  close  to  the 
head  of  which  they  seemed  likely  to  pass.  When 
nearly  at  the  end  I  cautiously  raised  my  hatless 
head,  peered  through  some  straggling  weeds,  and 
at  once  saw  the  horns  of  the  buck.  He  was  a  big 
fellow,  about  a  hundred  and  twenty  yards  off;  the 
others,  a  doe  and  two  kids,  were  in  front.  As  I 
lifted  myself  on  my  elbows  he  halted  and  turned 
his  raised  head  toward  me;  the  sunlight  shone 
bright  on  his  supple,  vigorous  body  with  its  mark 
ings  of  sharply  contrasted  brown  and  white.  I 


n8  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

pulled  trigger,  and  away  he  went;  but  I  could  see 
that  his  race  was  nearly  run,  and  he  fell  after  going 
a  few  hundred  yards. 

Soon  after  this  a  wind  storm  blew  up  so  violent 
that  we  could  hardly  face  it.  In  the  late  afternoon 
it  died  away,  and  I  again  walked  out  to  hunt,  but 
saw  only  does  and  kids,  at  which  I  would  not  shoot. 
As  the  sun  set,  leaving  bars  of  amber  and  pale  red 
in  the  western  sky,  the  air  became  absolutely  calm. 
In  the  waning  evening  the  low,  far-off  ridges  were 
touched  with  a  violet  light;  then  the  hues  grew 
sombre,  and  still  darkness  fell  on  the  lonely  prairie. 

Next  morning  we  drove  to  the  river,  and  kept 
near  it  for  several  days,  most  of  the  time  following 
the  tracks  made  by  the  heavy  wagons  accompanying 
the  trail  herds — this  being  one  of  the  regular  routes 
followed  by  the  great  throng  of  slow-moving  cattle 
yearly  driven  from  the  south.  At  other  times  we 
made  our  own  road.  Twice  or  thrice  we  passed 
ranch  houses;  the  men  being  absent  on  the  round 
up,  they  were  shut,  save  one  which  was  inhabited  by 
two  or  three  lean  Texan  cow-punchers,  with  sun 
burned  faces  and  reckless  eyes,  who  had  come  up 
with  a  trail  herd  from  the  Cherokee  strip.  Once, 
near  the  old  Sioux  crossing,  where  the  Dakota  war 
bands  used  to  ford  the  river  on  their  forays  against 
the  Crows  and  the  settlers  along  the  Yellowstone? 
we  met  a  large  horse  herd.  The  tough,  shabby, 
tired-looking  animals,  one  or  two  of  which  were 


Hunting  the   Prong-Buck  119 

loaded  with  bedding  and  a  scanty  supply  of  food, 
were  driven  by  three  travel- worn,  hard-faced  men, 
with  broad  hats,  shaps,  and  long  pistols  in  their 
belts.  They  had  brought  the  herd  over  plain  and 
mountain  pass  all  the  way  from  far  distant  Oregon. 

It  was  a  wild,  rough  country,  bare  of  trees  save 
for  a  fringe  of  cottonwoods  along  the  river,  and 
occasional  clumps  of  cedar  on  the  jagged,  brown 
buttes ;  as  we  went  further  the  hills  turned  the  color 
of  chalk,  and  were  covered  with  a  growth  of  pine. 
We  came  upon  acres  of  sunflowers  as  we  journeyed 
southward;  they  are  not  as  tall  as  they  are  in  the 
rich  bottom  lands  of  Kansas,  where  the  splendid 
blossoms,  on  their  strong  stalks,  stand  as  high  as 
the  head  of  a  man  on  horseback. 

Though  there  were  many  cattle  here,  big  game 
was  scarce.  However,  I  killed  plenty  of  prairie 
chickens  and  sage  hens  for  the  pot ;  and  as  the  sage 
hens  were  still  feeding  largely  on  crickets  and  grass 
hoppers,  and  not  exclusively  on  sage,  they  were 
just  as  good  eating  as  the  prairie  chickens.  I  used 
the  rifle,  cutting  off  their  heads  or  necks,  and,  as 
they  had  to  be  shot  on  the  ground,  and  often  while 
in  motion,  or  else  while  some  distance  away,  it  was 
more  difficult  than  shooting  off  the  heads  of  grouse 
in  the  mountains,  where  the  birds  sit  motionless  in 
trees.  The  head  is  a  small  mark,  while  to  hit  the 
body  is  usually  to  spoil  the  bird ;  so  I  found  that  I 
averaged  three  or  four  cartridges  for  every  head 


120  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

neatly  taken  off,  the  remaining  shots  representing1 
spoiled  birds  and  misses. 

For  the  last  sixty  or  seventy  miles  of  our  trip 
we  left  the  river  and  struck  off  across  a  great,  deso 
late  gumbo  prairie.  There  was  no  game,  no  wood 
for  fuel,  and  the  rare  water-holes  were  far 
apart,  so  that  we  were  glad  when,  as  we  toiled 
across  the  monotonous  succession  of  long,  swelling 
ridges,  the  dim,  cloud-like  mass,  looming  vague  and 
purple  on  the  rim  of  the  horizon  ahead  of  us,  gradu 
ally  darkened  and  hardened  into  the  bold  outline  of 
the  Black  Hills. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AMONG  THE   HIGH    HILLS;  TPIE   BIGHORN   OR   MOUN 
TAIN  SHEEP 

DURING  the  summer  of  1886  I  hunted  chiefly 
to  keep  the  ranch  in  meat.  It  was  a  very  pleas 
ant  summer;  although  it  was  followed  by  the  worst 
winter  we  ever  witnessed  on  the  plains.  I  was  much 
at  the  ranch,  where  I  had  a  good  deal  of  writing  to 
do ;  but  every  week  or  two  I  left,  to  ride  among  the 
line  camps,  or  to  spend  a  few  days  on  any  round 
up  which  happened  to  be  in  the  neighborhood. 

These  days  of  vigorous  work  among  the  cattle 
were  themselves  full  of  pleasure.  At  dawn  we  were 
in  the  saddle,  the  morning  air  cool  in  our  faces; 
the  red  sunrise  saw  us  loping  across  the  grassy 
reaches  of  prairie  land,  or  climbing  in  single  file 
among  the  rugged  buttes.  All  forenoon  we  spent 
riding  the  long  circle  with  the  cow-punchers  of  the 
round-up;  in  the  afternoon  we  worked  the  herd, 
cutting  the  cattle,  with  much  breakneck  galloping 
and  dexterous  halting  and  wheeling.  Then  came  the 
excitement  and  hard  labor  of  roping,  throwing,  and 
branding  the  wild  and  vigorous  range  calves;  in  a 
corral,  if  one  was  handy,  otherwise  in  a  ring  of 

(121)  VOL.  II. 

6 


122  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

horsemen.  Soon  after  nightfall  we  lay  down,  in  a 
log  hut  or  tent,  if  at  a  line  camp ;  under  the  open  sky, 
if  with  the  round-up  wagon. 

After  ten  days  or  so  of  such  work,  in  which  every 
man  had  to  do  his  full  share — for  laggards  and 
idlers,  no  matter  who,  get  no  mercy  in  the  real  and 
healthy  democracy  of  the  round-up — I  would  go 
back  to  the  ranch  to  turn  to  my  books  with  added 
zest  for  a  fortnight.  Yet  even  during  these  weeks 
at  the  ranch  there  was  some  outdoor  work;  for  I 
was  breaking  two  or  three  colts.  I  took  my  time, 
breaking  them  gradually  and  gently,  not,  after  the 
usual  cowboy  fashion,  in  a  hurry,  by  sheer  main 
strength  and  rough  riding,  with  the  attendant  dan 
ger  to  the  limbs  of  the  man  and  very  probable  ruin 
to  the  manners  of  the  horse.  We  rose  early;  each 
morning  I  stood  on  the  low-roofed  veranda,  look 
ing  out  under  the  line  of  murmuring,  glossy-leaved 
cottonwoods,  across  the  shallow  river,  to  see  the 
sun  flame  above  the  line  of  bluffs  opposite.  In  the 
evening  I  strolled  off  for  an  hour  or  two's  walk, 
rifle  in  hand.  The  roomy,  home-like  ranch  house, 
with  its  log  walls,  shingled  roof,  and  big  chimneys 
and  fireplaces,  stands  in  a  glade,  in  the  midst  of  the 
thick  forest,  which  covers  half  the  bottom ;  behind 
rises,  bare  and  steep,  the  wall  of  peaks,  ridges,  and 
tablelands. 

During  the  summer  in  question,  I  once  or  twice 
shot  a  whitetail  buck  right  on  this  large  bottom; 


Among  the   High   Hills  123 

once  or  twice  I  killed  a  blacktail  in  the  hills  behind, 
not  a  mile  from  the  ranch  house.  Several  times 
I  killed  and  brought  in  prong-bucks,  rising  before 
dawn,  and  riding  off  on  a  good  horse  for  an  all 
day's  hunt  in  the  rolling  prairie  country  twelve  or 
fifteen  miles  away.  Occasionally  I  took  the  wagon 
and  one  of  the  men,  driving  to  some  good  hunting 
ground  and  spending  a  night  or  two;  usually  return 
ing  with  two  or  three  prong-bucks,  and  once  with  an 
elk — but  this  was  later  in  the  fall.  Not  infrequently 
I  went  away  by  myself  on  horseback  for  a  couple 
of  days,  when  all  the  men  were  on  the  round-up, 
and  when  I  wished  to  hunt  thoroughly  some  coun 
try  quite  a  distance  from  the  ranch.  I  made  one 
such  hunt  in  late  August,  because  I  happened  to 
hear  that  a  small  bunch  of  mountain  sheep  were 
haunting  a  tract  of  very  broken  ground,  with  high 
hills,  about  fifteen  miles  away. 

I  left  the  ranch  early  in  the  morning,  riding  my 
favorite  hunting  horse,  old  Manitou.  The  blanket 
and  oilskin  slicker  were  rolled  and  strapped  behind 
the  saddle;  for  provisions  I  carried  salt,  a  small  bag 
of  hard  tack,  and  a  little  tea  and  sugar,  with  a  metal 
cup  in  which  to  boil  my  water.  The  rifle  and  a  score 
of  cartridges  in  my  woven  belt  completed  my  out 
fit.  On  my  journey  I  shot  two  prairie  chickens  from 
a  covey  in  the  bottom  of  a  brush  coulie. 

I  rode  more  than  six  hours  before  reaching  a  good 
spot  to  camp.  At  first  my  route  lay  across  grassy 


124  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

plateaus,  and  along  smooth  wooded  coulies;  but 
after  a  few  miles  the  ground  became  very  rugged 
and  difficult.  At  last  I  got  into  the  heart  of  the  Bad 
Lands  proper,  where  the  hard,  wrinkled  earth  was 
torn  into  shapes  as  sullen  and  grotesque  as  those  of 
dreamland.  The  hills  rose  high,  their  barren  flanks 
carved  and  channeled,  their  tops  mere  needles  and 
knife  crests.  Bands  of  black,  red,  and  purple  varied 
the  gray  and  yellow-brown  of  their  sides ;  the  tufts 
of  scanty  vegetation  were  dull  green.  Sometimes 
I  rode  my  horse  at  the  bottom  of  narrow  washouts, 
between  straight  walls  of  clay,  but  a  few  feet  apart ; 
sometimes  I  had  to  lead  him  as  he  scrambled  up, 
down,  and  across  the  sheer  faces  of  the  buttes.  The 
glare  from  the  bare  clay  walls  dazzled  the  eye;  the 
air  was  burning  under  the  hot  August  sun.  I  saw 
nothing  living  except  the  rattlesnakes,  of  which  there 
were  very  many. 

At  last,  in  the  midst  of  this  devil's  wilderness,  I 
came  on  a  lovely  valley.  A  spring  trickled  out  of  a 
cedar  canyon,  and  below  this  spring  the  narrow,  deep 
ravine  was  green  with  luscious  grass  and  was  smooth 
for  some  hundreds  of  yards.  Here  I  unsaddled,  and 
turned  old  Manitou  loose  to  drink  and  feed  at  his 
leisure.  At  the  edge  of  the  dark  cedar  wood  I 
cleared  a  spot  for  my  bed,  and  drew  a  few  dead 
sticks  for  the  fire.  Then  I  lay  down  and  watched 
drowsily  until  the  afternoon  shadows  filled  the  wild 
and  beautiful  gorge  in  which  I  was  camped.  This 


Among  the   High   Hills  125 

happened  early,  for  the  valley  was  very  narrow  and 
the  hills  on  either  hand  were  steep  and  high. 

Springing  to  my  feet,  I  climbed  the  nearest  ridge, 
and  then  made  my  way,  by  hard  clambering,  from 
peak  to  peak  and  from  crest  to  crest,  sometimes 
crossing  and  sometimes  skirting  the  deep  washouts 
and  canyons.  When  possible  I  avoided  appearing 
on  the  sky-line,  and  I  moved  with  the  utmost  cau 
tion,  walking  in  a  wide  sweep  so  as  to  hunt  across 
and  up  wind.  There  was  much  sheep  sign,  some  of 
it  fresh,  though  I  saw  none  of  the  animals  them 
selves  ;  the  square  slots,  with  the  indented  marks  of 
the  toe  points  wide  apart,  contrasting  strongly  with 
the  heart-shaped  and  delicate  footprints  of  deer. 
The  animals  had,  according  to  their  habit,  beaten 
trails  along  the  summits  of  the  higher  crests;  little 
side  trails  leading  to  any  spur,  peak,  or  other  van 
tage-point  from  which  there  was  a  wide  outlook 
over  the  country  roundabout. 

The  bighorns  of  the  Bad  Lands,  unlike  those  of 
the  mountains,  shift  their  range  but  little,  winter  or 
summer.  Save  in  the  breeding  season,  when  each 
master  ram  gets  together  his  own  herd,  the  ewes, 
lambs,  and  yearlings  are  apt  to  go  in  bands  by  them 
selves,  while  the  males  wander  in  small  parties ;  now 
and  then  a  very  morose  old  fellow  lives  by  himself, 
in  some  precipitous,  out-of-the-way  retreat.  The 
rut  begins  with  them  much  later  than  with  deer ;  the 
exact  time  varies  with  the  locality,  but  it  is  always 


126  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

after  the  bitter  winter  weather  has  set  in.  Then  the 
old  rams  fight  fiercely  together,  and  on  rare  occa 
sions  utter  a  long  grunting  bleat  or  call.  They  are 
marvelous  climbers,  and  dwell  by  choice  always 
among  cliffs  and  jagged,  broken  ground,  whether 
wooded  or  not.  An  old  bighorn  ram  is  heavier  than 
the  largest  buck ;  his  huge,  curved  horns,  massive  yet 
supple  build,  and  proud  bearing  mark  him  as  one  of 
the  noblest  beasts  of  the  chase.  He  is  wary;  great 
skill  and  caution  must  be  shown  in  approaching 
him;  and  no  one  but  a  good  climber,  with  a  steady 
head,  sound  lungs,  and  trained  muscles,  can  success 
fully  hunt  him  in  his  own  rugged  fastnesses.  The 
chase  of  no  other  kind  of  American  big  game  ranks 
higher,  or  more  thoroughly  tests  the  manliest  quali 
ties  of  the  hunter. 

I  walked  back  to  camp  in  the  gloaming,  taking 
care  to  reach  it  before  it  grew  really  dark;  for  in 
the  Bad  Lands  it  is  entirely  impossible  to  travel,  or 
to  find  any  given  locality,  after  nightfall.  Old  Mani- 
tou  had  eaten  his  fill  and  looked  up  at  me  with 
pricked  ears,  and  wise,  friendly  face  as  I  climbed 
down  the  side  of  the  cedar  canyon;  then  he  came 
slowly  toward  me  to  see  if  I  had  not  something  for 
him.  I  rubbed  his  soft  nose  and  gave  him  a  cracker ; 
then  I  picketed  him  to  a  solitary  cedar,  where  the 
feed  was  good.  Afterward  I  kindled  a  small  fire, 
roasted  both  prairie  fowl,  ate  one,  and  put  the  other 
by  for  breakfast;  and  soon  rolled  myself  in  my 


Among  the   High   Hills  127 

blanket,  with  the  saddle  for  a  pillow,  and  the  oilskin 
beneath.  Manitou  was  munching  the  grass  nearby. 
I  lay  just  outside  the  line  of  stiff  black  cedars ;  the 
night  air  was  soft  in  my  face;  I  gazed  at  the  shining 
and  brilliant  multitude  of  stars  until  my  eyelids 
closed. 

The  chill  breath  which  comes  before  dawn  awak 
ened  me.  It  was  still  and  dark.  Through  the 
gloom  I  could  indistinctly  make  out  the  loom  of 
the  old  horse,  lying  down.  I  was  speedily  ready, 
and  groped  and  stumbled  slowly  up  the  hill,  and  then 
along  its  creast  to  a  peak.  Here  I  sat  clown  and 
waited  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  so,  until  gray  ap 
peared  in  the  east,  and  the  dim  light-streaks  enabled 
me  to  walk  further.  Before  sunrise  I  was  two  miles 
from  camp;  then  I  crawled  cautiously  to  a  high 
ridge  and,  crouching  behind  it,  scanned  all  the  land 
scape  eagerly.  In  a  few  minutes  a  movement  about 
a  third  of  a  mile  to  the  right,  midway  down  a  hill, 
caught  my  eye.  Another  glance  showed  me  three 
white  specks  moving  along  the  hillside.  They  were 
the  white  rumps  of  three  fine  mountain  sheep,  on 
their  way  to  drink  at  a  little  alkaline  pool  in  the 
bottom  of  a  deep,  narrow  valley.  In  a  moment  they 
went  out  of  sight  round  a  bend  of  the  valley;  and  I 
rose  and  trotted  briskly  toward  them,  along  the 
ridge.  There  were  two  or  three  deep  gullies  to 
cross,  and  a  high  shoulder  over  which  to  clamber; 
so  I  was  out  of  breath  when  I  reached  the  bend  be- 


128  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

yond  which  they  had  disappeared.  Taking  advan 
tage  of  a  scrawny  sage  brush  as  cover  I  peeped  over 
the  edge,  and  at  once  saw  the  sheep,  three  big  young 
rams.  They  had  finished  drinking  and  were  stand 
ing  beside  the  little  miry  pool,  about  three  hundred 
yards  distant.  Slipping  back  I  dropped  down  into  the 
bottom  of  the  valley,  where  a  narrow  washout  zig 
zagged  from  side  to  side,  between  straight  walls  of 
clay.  The  pool  was  in  the  upper  end  of  this  wash 
out,  under  a  cut  bank. 

An  indistinct  game  trail,  evidently  sometimes 
used  by  both  bighorn  and  blacktail,  ran  up  this 
washout;  the  bottom  wras  of  clay  so  that  I  walked 
noiselessly;  and  the  crookedness  of  the  washout's 
course  afforded  ample  security  against  discovery  by 
the  sharp  eyes  of  the  quarry.  In  a  couple  of  min 
utes  I  stalked  stealthily  round  the  last  bend,  my  rifle 
cocked  and  at  the  ready,  expecting  to  see  the  rams 
by  the  pool.  However,  they  had  gone,  and  the 
muddy  water  was  settling  in  their  deep  hoof  marks. 
Running  on  I  looked  over  the  edge  of  the  cut  bank 
and  saw  them  slowly  quartering  up  the  hillside, 
cropping  the  sparse  tufts  of  coarse  grass.  I  whis 
tled,  and  as  they  stood  at  gaze  I  put  a  bullet  into  the 
biggest,  a  little  too  far  aft  of  the  shoulder,  but  rang 
ing  forward.  He  raced  after  the  others,  but  soon  fell 
behind,  and  turned  off  on  his  own  line,  at  a  walk, 
with  dropping  head.  As  he  bled  freely  I  followed 
his  tracks,  found  him,  very  sick,  in  a  washout  a  quar- 


Among  the   High   Hills  129 

ter  of  a  mile  beyon *  and  finished  him  with  another 
shot.  After  dressing  him,  and  cutting  off  the  sad 
dle  and  hams,  as  well  as  the  head,  I  walked  back  to 
camp,  breakfasted,  and  rode  Manitou  to  where  the 
sheep  lay.  Packing  it  securely  behind  the  saddle, 
and  shifting  the  blanket  roll  to  in  front  of  the  saddle- 
horn,  I  led  the  horse  until  we  were  clear  of  the  Bad 
Lands ;  then  mounted  him,  and  was  back  at  the  ranch 
soon  after  midday.  The  mutton  of  a  fat  young 
mountain  ram,  at  this  season  of  the  year,  is  deli 
cious. 

Such  quick  success  is  rare  in  hunting  sheep.  Gen 
erally  each  head  has  cost  rne  several  days  of  hard, 
faithful  work;  and  more  than  once  I  have  hunted 
over  a  week  without  any  reward  whatsoever.  But 
the  quarry  is  so  noble  that  the  ultimate  triumph — 
sure  to  come,  if  the  hunter  will  but  persevere  long 
enough — atones  for  all  previous  toil  and  failure. 

Once  a  lucky  stalk  and  shot  at  a  bighorn  was 
almost  all  that  redeemed  a  hunt  in  the  Rockies  from 
failure.  I  was  high  among  the  mountains  at  the 
time,  but  was  dogged  by  ill  luck;  I  had  seen  but 
little,  and  I  had  not  shot  very  well.  One  morning  I 
rose  early,  and  hunted  steadily  until  midday  with 
out  seeing  anything.  A  mountain  hunter  was  with 
me.  At  noon  we  sat  down  to  rest,  and  look  over  the 
country,  from  behind  a  shield  of  dwarf  evergreens 
on  the  brink  of  a  mighty  chasm.  The  rocks  fell 
downward  in  huge  cliffs,  stern  and  barren ;  from  far 


130  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

below  rose  the  strangled  roaring  of  the  torrent,  as 
the  foaming  masses  of  green  and  white  water 
churned  round  the  bowlders  in  the  stream  bed.  Ex 
cept  this  humming  of  the  wild  water,  and  the  sough 
ing  of  the  pines,  there  was  no  sound.  We  were 
sitting  on  a  kind  of  jutting  promontory  of  rock  so 
that  we  could  scan  the  cliffs  far  and  near.  First  I 
took  the  glasses  and  scrutinized  the  ground  almost 
rod  by  rod,  for  nearly  half  an  hour;  then  my  com 
panion  took  them  in  turn.  It  is  very  hard  to  make 
out  game,  especially  when  lying  down,  and  still; 
and  it  is  curious  to  notice  how,  after  fruitlessly  scan 
ning  a  country  through  the  glasses  for  a  consider 
able  period,  a  herd  of  animals  will  suddenly  appear 
in  the  field  of  vision  as  if  by  magic.  In  this  case, 
while  my  companion  held  the  glasses  for  the  second 
time,  a  slight  motion  caught  his  eye;  and  looking 
attentively  he  made  out,  five  or  six  hundred  yards 
distant,  a  mountain  ram  lying  among  some  loose 
rocks  and  small  bushes  at  the  head  of  a  little  grassy 
cove  or  nook,  in  a  shallow  break  between  two  walls 
of  the  cliff.  So  well  did  the  bluish  gray  of  its 
body  harmonize  in  tint  with  the  rocks  and  shrub 
bery  that  it  was  some  time  before  I  could  see  it, 
even  when  pointed  out  to  me. 

The  wind  was  favorable,  and  we  at  once  drew 
back  and  began  a  cautious  stalk.  It  was  impos 
sible,  owing  to  the  nature  of  the  cliffs  above  and 
below  the  bighorn's  resting-place,  to  get  a  shot  save 


Among  the   High   Hills  131 

by  creeping  along  nearly  on  a  level  with  him.  Ac 
cordingly  we  worked  our  way  down  through  a  big 
cleft  in  the  rocks,  being  forced  to  go  very  slowly 
and  carefully  lest  we  should  start  a  loose  stone ;  and 
at  last  reached  a  narrow  terrace  of  rock  and  grass 
along  which  we  walked  comparatively  at  our  ease. 
Soon  it  dwindled  away,  and  we  then  had  to  do  our 
only  difficult  piece  of  climbing — a  clamber  for  fifty 
or  sixty  feet  across  a  steep  cliff  shoulder.  Some 
little  niches  and  cracks  in  the  rock  and  a  few  pro 
jections  and  diminutive  ledges  on  its  surface,  barely 
enabled  us  to  swarm  across,  with  painstaking  care — 
not  merely  to  avoid  alarming  the  game  this  time, 
but  also  to  avoid  a  slip  which  would  have  proved 
fatal.  Once  across  we  came  on  a  long,  grassy  shelf, 
leading  round  a  shoulder  into  the  cleft  where  the 
ram  lay.  As  I  neared  the  end  I  crept  forward  on 
hands  and  knees,  and  then  crawled  flat,  shoving  the 
rifle  ahead  of  me,  until  I  rounded  the  shoulder  and 
peered  into  the  rift.  As  my  eyes  fell  on  the  ram  he 
sprang  to  his  feet,  with  a  clatter  of  loose  stones,  and 
stood  facing  me,  some  sixty  yards  off,  his  dark  face 
and  white  muzzle  brought  out  finely  by  the  battered, 
curved  horns.  I  shot  into  his  chest,  hitting  him  in 
the  sticking  place;  and  after  a  few  mad  bounds  he 
tumbled  headlong,  and  fell  a  very  great  distance, 
unfortunately  injuring  one  horn. 

When  much  hunted,  bighorn  become  the  wariest 
of  all  American  game,  and  their  chase  is  then  pe- 


132  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

culiarly  laborious  and  exciting.  But  where  they 
have  known  nothing  of  men,  not  having  been  mo 
lested  by  hunters,  they  are  exceedingly  tame.  Pro 
fessor  John  Bach  McMaster  informs  me  that  in 
1877  he  penetrated  to  the  Uintah  Mountains  of 
Wyoming,  which  were  then  almost  unknown  to 
hunters;  he  found  all  the  game  very  bold,  and  the 
wild  sheep  in  particular  so  unsuspicious  that  he 
could  walk  up  to  within  short  rifle  range  of  them 
in  the  open. 

On  the  high  mountains  bighorn  occasionally  get 
killed  by  a  snow-slide.  My  old  friend,  the  hunter 
Woody,  once  saw  a  band  which  started  such  an 
avalanche  by  running  along  a  steep  sloping  snow 
field,  it  being  in  the  spring;  for  several  hundred 
yards  it  thundered  at  their  heels,  but  by  desperate 
racing  they  just  managed  to  get  clear.  Woody  was 
also  once  an  eye-witness  to  the  ravages  the  cougar 
commits  among  these  wild  sheep.  He  was  stalking 
a  band  in  the  snow  when  he  saw  them  suddenly  scat 
ter  at  a  run  in  every  direction.  Coming  up  he 
found  the  traces  of  a  struggle,  and  the  track  of  a 
body  being  dragged  through  the  snow,  together 
with  the  round  footmarks  of  the  cougar;  a  little 
further  on  lay  a  dead  ewe,  the  blood  flowing  from 
the  fang  wounds  in  her  throat. 


CHAPTER   VII 
MOUNTAIN  GAME;  THE  WHITE  GOAT 

T  ATE  one  August  I  started  on  a  trip  to  the  Big 
J—'  Hole  Basin,  in  western  Montana,  to  hunt  white 
goats.  With  me  went  a  friend  of  many  hunts,  John 
Willis,  a  tried  mountain  man. 

We  left  the  railroad  at  the  squalid  little  hamlet 
of  Divide,  where  we  hired  a  team  and  wagon  from 
a  "busted"  granger,  suspected  of  being  a  Mormon, 
who  had  failed,  even  with  the  help  of  irrigation,  in 
raising  a  crop.  The  wagon  was  in  fairly  good  or 
der;  the  harness  was  rotten,  and  needed  patching 
with  ropes ;  while  the  team  consisted  of  two  spoiled 
horses,  overworked  and  thin,  but  full  of  the  devil 
the  minute  they  began  to  pick  up  condition.  How 
ever,  on  the  frontier  one  soon  grows  to  accept  little 
facts  of  this  kind  with  bland  indifference ;  and  Wil 
lis  was  not  only  an  expert  teamster,  but  possessed 
that  inexhaustible  fertility  of  resource  and  unfail 
ing  readiness  in  an  emergency  so  characteristic  of 
the  veteran  of  the  border.  Through  hard  experi 
ence  he  had  become  master  of  plainscraft  and  wood 
craft,  skilled  in  all  frontier  lore. 

For  a  couple  of  days  we  jogged  up  the  valley  of 
the  Big  Hole  River,  along  the  mail  road.  At  night 

(i33) 


134  The  Wilderness   Hunter 

we  camped  under  our  wagon.  At  the  mouth  of  the 
stream  the  valley  was  a  mere  gorge,  but  it  broad 
ened  steadily  the  further  up  we  went,  till  the  rapid 
river  wound  through  a  wide  expanse  of  hilly,  tree 
less  prairie.  On  each  side  the  mountains  rose,  their 
lower  flanks  and  the  foothills  covered  with  the  ever 
green  forest.  We  got  milk  and  bread  at  the  scat 
tered  log-houses  of  the  few  settlers;  and  for  meat 
we  shot  sage  fowl,  which  abounded.  They  were 
feeding  on  grasshoppers  at  this  time,  and  the  flesh, 
especially  of  the  young  birds,  was  as  tender  and  well 
tasting  as  possible;  whereas,  when  we  again  passed 
through  the  valley  in  September,  we  found  the  birds 
almost  uneatable,  being  fairly  bitter  with  sage.  Like 
all  grouse,  they  are  far  tamer  earlier  in  the  season 
than  later,  being  very  wild  in  winter ;  and,  of  course, 
they  are  boldest  where  they  are  least  hunted;  but 
for  some  unexplained  reason  they  are  always  tamer 
than  the  sharp-tail  prairie  fowl  which  are  to  be 
found  in  the  same  locality. 

Finally  we  reached  the  neighborhood  of  the  Battle 
Ground,  where  a  rude  stone  monument  commemo 
rates  the  bloody  drawn  fight  between  General  Gib 
bons'  soldiers  and  the  Nez  Perces  warriors  of  Chief 
Joseph.  Here,  on  the  third  day  of  our  journey,  we 
left  the  beaten  road  and  turned  toward  the  moun 
tains,  following  an  indistinct  trail  made  by  wood- 
choppers.  We  met  with  our  full  share  of  the  usual 
mishaps  incident  to  prairie  travel ;  and  toward  even- 


Mountain  Game  135 

ing  our  team  got  mired  in  crossing  a  slough.  We 
attempted  the  crossing  with  some  misgivings,  which 
were  warranted  by  the  result ;  for  the  second  plunge 
of  the  horses  brought  them  up  to  their  bellies  in  the 
morass,  where  they  stuck.  It  was  freezing  cold, 
with  a  bitter  wind  blowing,  and  the  bog  holes  were 
skimmed  with  ice;  so  that  we  passed  a  thoroughly 
wretched  two  hours  while  freeing  the  horses  and  un 
loading  the  wagon.  However,  we  eventually  got 
across;  my  companion  preserving  an  absolutely  un 
ruffled  temper  throughout,  perseveringly  whistling 
the  "Arkansaw  Traveler."  At  one  period,  when  we 
were  up  to  our  waists  in  the  icy  mud,  it  began  to 
sleet  and  hail,  and  I  muttered  that  I  would  "rather 
it  didn't  storm";  whereat  he  stopped  whistling  for 
a  moment  to  make  the  laconic  rejoinder,  "We're 
not  having  our  rathers  this  trip."1 

At  nightfall  we  camped  among  the  willow  bushes 
by  a  little  brook.  For  firewood  we  had  only  dead 
willow  sticks;  they  made  a  hot  blaze  which  soon 
died  out ;  and  as  the  cold  grew  intense,  we  rolled  up 
in  our  blankets  as  soon  as  we  had  eaten  our  supper. 
The  climate  of  the  Big  Hole  Basin  is  alpine;  that 
night,  though  it  was  the  2Oth  of  August,  the  ther 
mometer  sank  to  10°  F. 

Early  next  morning  we  struck  camp,  shivering 
with  cold  as  we  threw  the  stiff,  frozen  harness  on 
the  horses.  We  soon  got  among  the  foothills,  where 
the  forest  was  open  and  broken  by  large  glades, 


136  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

forming  what  is  called  a  park  country.  The  higher 
we  went  the  smaller  grew  the  glades  and  the  denser 
the  woodland;  and  it  began  to  be  very  difficult  to 
get  the  wagon  forward.  In  many  places  one  man 
had  to  go  ahead  to  pick  out  the  way  and  if  neces 
sary  do  a  little  chopping  and  lopping  with  the  axe, 
while  the  other  followed  driving  the  team.  At  last 
we  were  brought  to  a  standstill,  and  pitched  camp 
beside  a  rapid,  alder-choked  brook  in  the  uppermost 
of  a  series  of  rolling  glades,  hemmed  in  by  moun 
tains  and  the  dense  coniferous  forest.  Our  tent 
stood  under  a  grove  of  pines,  close  to  the  brook; 
at  night  we  built  in  front  of  it  a  big  fire  of  crackling, 
resinous  logs.  Our  goods  were  sheltered  by  the 
wagon,  or  covered  with  a  tarpaulin ;  we  threw  down 
sprays  of  odorous  evergreens  to  make  a  resting- 
place  for  our  bedding;  we  built  small  scaffolds  on 
which  to  dry  the  flesh  of  elk  and  deer.  In  an  hour 
or  two  we  had  round  us  all  the  many  real  comforts 
of  such  a  little  wilderness  home. 

Whoever  has  long  roamed  and  hunted  in  the  wil 
derness  always  cherishes  with  wistful  pleasure  the 
memory  of  some  among  the  countless  camps  he  has 
made.  The  camp  by  the  margin  of  the  clear,  moun 
tain-hemmed  lake;  the  camp  in  the  dark  and  mel 
ancholy  forest,  where  the  gusty  wind  booms  through 
the  tall  pine  tops;  the  camp  under  gnarled  cotton- 
woods,  on  the  bank  of  a  shrunken  river,  in  the 
midst  of  endless  grassy  prairies, — of  these,  and 


Mountain  Game  137 

many  like  them,  each  has  had  its  own  charm.  Of 
course  in  hunting  one  must  expect  much  hardship 
and  repeated  disappointment;  and  in  many  a  camp, 
bad  weather,  lack  of  shelter,  hunger,  thirst,  or  ill 
success  with  game,  renders  the  days  and  nights  irk 
some  and  trying.  Yet  the  hunter  worthy  of  the 
name  always  willingly  takes  the  bitter  if  by  so  doing 
he  can  get  the  sweet,  and  gladly  balances  failure  and 
success,  spurning  the  poorer  souls  who  know  neither. 

We  turned  our  horses  loose,  hobbling  one ;  and  as 
we  did  not  look  after  them  for  several  days,  nothing 
but  my  companion's  skill  as  a  tracker  enabled  us  to 
find  them  again.  There  was  a  spell  of  warm  weather 
which  brought  out  a  few  of  the  big  bull-dog  flies, 
which  drive  a  horse — or  indeed  a  man — nearly  fran 
tic;  we  were  in  the  haunts  of  these  dreaded  and 
terrible  scourges,  which  up  to  the  beginning  of 
August  render  it  impossible  to  keep  stock  of  any 
description  unprotected  where  they  abound,  but 
which  are  never  formidable  after  the  first  frost.  In 
many  parts  of  the  wilderness  these  pests,  or  else  the 
incredible  swarms  of  mosquitoes,  blackflies,  and  buf 
falo  gnats,  render  life  not  worth  living  during  the 
last  weeks  of  spring  and  the  early  months  of  sum 
mer. 

There  were  elk  and  deer  in  the  neighborhood; 
also  ruffed,  blue,  and  spruce  grouse;  so  that  our 
camp  was  soon  stocked  with  meat.  Early  one  morn 
ing  while  Willis  was  washing  in  the  brook,  a  little 


ij 8  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

black  bear  thrust  its  sharp  nose  through  the  alders  a 
few  feet  from  him,  and  then  hastily  withdrew  and 
was  seen  no  more.  The  smaller  wild-folk  were  more 
familiar.  As  usual  in  the  northern  mountains,  the 
gray  moose-birds  and  voluble,  nervous  little  chip 
munks  made  themselves  at  home  in  the  camp. 
Parties  of  chickadees  visited  us  occasionally.  A 
family  of  flying  squirrels  lived  overhead  in  the 
grove;  and  at  nightfall  they  swept  noiselessly  from 
tree  to  tree,  in  long,  graceful  curves.  There  were 
sparrows  of  several  kinds  moping  about  in  the 
alders;  and  now  and  then  one  of  them  would  sing 
a  few  sweet,  rather  mournful  bars. 

After  several  days'  preliminary  exploration  we 
started  on  foot  for  white  goat.  We  took  no  packs 
with  us,  each  carrying  merely  his  jacket,  with  a 
loaf  of  bread  and  a  paper  of  salt  thrust  into  the 
pockets.  Our  aim  was  to  get  well  to  one  side  of  a 
cluster  of  high,  bare  peaks,  and  then  to  cross  them 
and  come  back  to  camp;  we  reckoned  that  the  trip 
would  take  three  days. 

All  the  first  day  we  tramped  through  dense  woods 
and  across  and  around  steep  mountain  spurs.  We 
caught  glimpses  of  two  or  three  deer  and  a  couple 
of  elk,  all  does  or  fawns,  however,  which  we  made 
no  effort  to  molest.  Late  in  the  afternoon  we 
stumbled  across  a  family  of  spruce  grouse,  which 
furnished  us  material  for  both  supper  and  break 
fast.  The  mountain  men  call  this  bird  the  fool- 


Mountain  Game  139 

hen;  and  most  certainly  it  deserves  the  name, 
The  members  of  this  particular  flock,  consisting  of 
a  hen  and  her  three-parts  grown  chickens,  acted 
with  a  stupidity  unwonted  even  for  their  kind.  They 
were  feeding  on  the  ground  among  some  young 
spruce,  and  on  our  approach  flew  up  and  perched 
in  the  branches  four  or  five  feet  above  our  heads. 
There  they  stayed,  uttering  a  low,  complaining 
whistle,  and  showed  not  the  slightest  suspicion  when 
we  came  underneath  them  with  long  sticks  and 
knocked  four  off  their  perches — for  we  did  not  wish 
to  alarm  any  large  game  that  might  be  in  the  neigh 
borhood  by  firing.  One  particular  bird  was  par 
tially  saved  from  my  first  blow  by  the  intervening 
twigs ;  however,  it  merely  flew  a  few  yards,  and  then 
sat  with  its  bill  open, — having  evidently  been  a 
little  hurt, — until  I  came  up  and  knocked  it  over  with 
a  better  directed  stroke. 

Spruce  grouse  are  plentiful  in  the  mountain  for 
ests  of  the  northern  Rockies,  and,  owing  to  the  ease 
with  which  they  are  killed,  they  have  furnished  me 
my  usual  provender  when  off  on  trips  of  this  kind, 
where  I  carried  no  pack.  They  are  marvelously 
tame  and  stupid.  The  young  birds  are  the  only  ones 
I  have  ever  killed  in  this  manner  with  a  stick;  but 
even  a  full  plumaged  old  cock  in  September  is  easily 
slain  with  a  stone  by  any  one  who  is  at  all  a  good 
thrower.  A  man  who  has  played  much  base-ball 
need  never  use  a  gun  when  after  spruce  grouse. 


140  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

They  are  the  smallest  of  the  grouse  kind;  the  cock 
is  very  handsome,  with  red  eyebrows  and  dark, 
glossy  plumage.  Moreover,  he  is  as  brave  as  he  is 
stupid  and  good-looking,  and  in  the  love  season 
becomes  fairly  crazy :  at  such  time  he  will  occasion 
ally  make  a  feint  of  attacking  a  man,  strutting, 
fluttering,  and  ruffling  his  feathers.  The  flesh  of 
the  spruce  grouse  is  not  so  good  as  that  of  his  ruffed 
and  blue  kinsfolk;  and  in  winter,  when  he  feeds  on 
spruce  buds,  it  is  ill  tasting.  I  have  never  been  able 
to  understand  why  closely  allied  species,  under  ap 
parently  the  same  surroundings,  should  differ  so 
radically  in  such  important  traits  as  wariness  and 
capacity  to  escape  from  foes.  Yet  the  spruce  grouse 
in  this  respect  shows  the  most  marked  contrast  to  the 
blue  grouse  and  the  ruffed  grouse.  Of  course  all 
three  kinds  vary  greatly  in  their  behavior  according 
as  they  do  or  do  not  live  in  localities  where  they 
have  been  free  from  man's  persecutions.  The  ruffed 
grouse,  a  very  wary  game  bird  in  all  old-settled 
regions,  is  often  absurdly  tame  in  the  wilderness; 
and  under  persecution  even  the  spruce  grouse  gains 
some  little  wisdom;  but  the  latter  never  becomes  as 
wary  as  the  former,  and  under  no  circumstances 
is  it  possible  to  outwit  the  ruffed  grouse  by  such 
clumsy  means  as  serve  for  his  simple-minded  broth 
er.  There  is  a  similar  difference  between  the  sage 
fowl  and  prairie  fowl,  in  favor  of  the  latter.  It 
is  odd  that  the  largest  and  the  smallest  kinds  of 


Mountain  Game  141 

grouse  found  in  the  United  States  should  be  the 
tamest;  and  also  the  least  savory. 

After  tramping  all  day  through  the  forest,  at 
nightfall  we  camped  in  its  upper  edge,  just  at  the 
foot  of  the  steep  rock  walls  of  the  mountain.  We 
chose  a  sheltered  spot,  where  the  small  spruce  grew 
thick,  and  there  was  much  dead  timber;  and  as  the 
logs,  though  long,  were  of  little  girth,  we  speedily 
dragged  together  a  number  suffcient  to  keep  the 
fire  blazing  all  night.  Having  drunk  our  full  at  a 
brook  we  cut  two  forked  willow  sticks,  and  then 
each  plucked  a  grouse,  split  it,  thrust  the  willow-fork 
into  it,  and  roasted  it  before  the  fire.  Besides  this 
we  had  salt,  and  bread;  moreover  we  were  hungry 
and  healthily  tired;  so  the  supper  seemed,  and 
was,  delicious.  Then  we  turned  up  the  collars 
of  our  jackets,  and  lay  down,  to  pass  the  night 
in  broken  slumber;  each  time  the  fire  died  down 
the  chill  waked  us.,  and  we  rose  to  feed  it  with 
fresh  logs. 

At  dawn  we  rose,  and  cooked  and  ate  the  two  re 
maining  grouse.  Then  we  turned  our  faces  upward, 
and  passed  a  day  of  severe  toil  in  climbing  over  the 
crags.  Mountaineering  is  very  hard  work;  and 
when  we  got  high  among  the  peaks,  where  snow 
filled  the  rifts,  the  thinness  of  the  air  forced  me  to 
stop  for  breath  every  few  hundred  yards  of  the  as 
cent.  We  found  much  sign  of  white  goats,  but  in 
spite  of  steady  work  and  incessant  careful  scanning 


142  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

of  the  rocks,  we  did  not  see  our  quarry  until  early 
in  the  afternoon. 

We  had  clambered  up  one  side  of  a  steep  saddle 
of  naked  rock,  some  of  the  scarped  ledges  being  dif 
ficult,  and  indeed  dangerous,  of  ascent.  From  the 
top  of  the  saddle  a  careful  scrutiny  of  the  neigh 
boring  peaks  failed  to  reveal  any  game,  and  we  be 
gan  to  go  down  the  other  side.  The  mountain  fell 
away  in  a  succession  of  low  cliffs,  and  we  had  to 
move  with  the  utmost  caution.  In  letting  ourselves 
down  from  ledge  to  I'edge  one  would  hold  the  guns 
until  the  other  got  safe  footing,  and  then  pass  them 
down  to  him.  In  many  places  we  had  to  work  our 
way  along  the  cracks  in  the  faces  of  the  frost-riven 
rocks.  At  last,  just  as  we  reached  a  little  smooth 
shoulder,  my  companion  said,  pointing  down  be 
neath  us,  "Look  at  the  white  goat!" 

A  moment  or  two  passed  before  I  got  my  eyes  on 
it.  We  were  looking  down  into  a  basin-like  valley, 
surrounded  by  high  mountain  chains.  At  one  end 
of  the  basin  was  a  low  pass,  where  the  ridge  was 
cut  up  with  the  zigzag  trails  made  by  the  countless 
herds  of  game  which  had  traveled  it  for  many  gen 
erations.  At  the  other  end  was  a  dark  gorge, 
through  which  a  stream  foamed.  The  floor  of  the 
basin  was  bright  emerald  green,  dotted  with  darker 
bands  where  belts  of  fir  trees  grew;  and  in  its  mid 
dle  lay  a  little  lake. 

At  last  I  caught  sight  of  the  goat,  feeding  on  a 


Mountain  Game  143 

terrace  rather  over  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  yards 
below  me.  I  promptly  fired,  but  overshot.  The 
goat  merely  gave  a  few  jumps  and  stopped.  My 
second  bullet  went  through  its  lungs;  but  fearful 
lest  it  might  escape  to  some  inaccessible  cleft  or 
ledge  I  fired  again,  missing;  and  yet  again,  break 
ing  its  back.  Down  it  went,  and  the  next  moment 
began  to  roll  over  and  over,  from  ledge  to  ledge. 
I  greatly  feared  it  would  break  its  horns;  an  an 
noying  and  oft-recurring  incident  of  white-goat 
shooting,  where  the  nature  of  the  ground  is  such 
that  the  dead  quarry  often  falls  hundreds  of  feet,  its 
body  being  torn  to  ribbons  by  the  sharp  crags. 
However,  in  this  case  the  goat  speedily  lodged  un 
harmed  in  a  little  dwarf  evergreen. 

Hardly  had  I  fired  my  fourth  shot  when  my  com 
panion  again  exclaimed,  "Look  at  the  white  goats! 
look  at  the  white  goats !"  Glancing  in  the  direction 
in  which  he  pointed  I  speedily  made  out  four  more 
goats  standing  in  a  bunch  rather  less  than  a  hun 
dred  yards  off,  to  one  side  of  my  former  line  of  fire. 
They  were  all  looking  up  at  me.  They  stood  on  a 
slab  of  white  rock,  with  which  the  color  of  their 
fleece  harmonized  well ;  and  their  black  horns,  muz 
zles,  eyes,  and  hoofs  looked  like  dark  dots  on  a 
light-colored  surface,  so  that  it  took  me  more  than 
one  glance  to  determine  what  they  were.  White 
goat  invariably  run  up  hill  when  alarmed,  their  one 
idea  seeming  to  be  to  escape  danger  by  getting  above 


144  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

it;  for  their  brute  foes  are  able  to  overmatch  them 
on  anything  like  level  ground,  but  are  helpless 
against  them  among  the  crags.  Almost  as  soon  as 
I  saw  them  these  four  started  up  the  mountain, 
nearly  in  my  direction,  while  I  clambered  down  and 
across  to  meet  them.  They  halted  at  the  foot  of  a 
cliff,  and  I  at  the  top,  being  unable  to  see  them ;  but 
in  another  moment  they  came  bounding  and  canter 
ing  up  the  sheer  rocks,  not  moving  quickly,  but 
traversing  the  most  seemingly  impossible  places  by 
main  strength  and  sure-footedness.  As  they  broke 
by  me,  some  thirty  yards  off,  I  fired  two  shots  at 
the  rearmost,  an  old  buck,  somewhat  smaller  than 
the  one  I  had  just  killed;  and  he  rolled  down  the 
mountain  dead.  Two  of  the  others,  a  yearling  and 
a  kid,  showed  more  alarm  than  their  elders,  and  ran 
off  at  a  brisk  pace.  The  remaining  one,  an  old  she, 
went  off  a  hundred  yards,  and  then  deliberately 
stopped  and  turned  round  to  gaze  at  us  for  a  couple 
of  minutes!  Verily  the  white  goat  is  the  fool-hen 
among  beasts  of  the  chase. 

Having  skinned  and  cut  off  the  heads  we  walked 
rapidly  onward,  slanting  down  the  mountain  side, 
and  then  over  and  down  the  pass  of  the  game  trails ; 
for  it  was  growing  late  and  we  wished  to  get  well 
down  among  the  timber  before  nightfall.  On  the 
way  an  eagle  came  soaring  overhead,  and  I  shot  at 
it  twice  without  success.  Having  once  killed  an 
eagle  on  the  wing  with  a  rifle,  I  always  have  a  lurk- 


Mountain  Game  145 

ing  hope  that  some  time  I  may  be  able  to  repeat  the 
feat.  I  revenged  myself  for  the  miss  by  knocking 
a  large  blue  goshawk  out  of  the  top  of  a  blasted 
spruce,  where  it  was  sitting  in  lazy  confidence,  its 
crop  stuffed  with  rabbit  and  grouse. 

A  couple  of  hours'  hard  walking  brought  us  down 
to  timber;  just  before  dusk  we  reached  a  favorable 
camping  spot  in  the  forest,  beside  a  brook,  with 
plenty  of  dead  trees  for  the  night-fire.  Moreover, 
the  spot  fortunately  yielded  us  our  supper,  too,  in 
the  shape  of  a  flock  of  young  spruce  grouse,  of  which 
we  shot  off  the  heads  of  a  couple.  Immediately 
afterward  I  ought  to  have  procured  our  breakfast, 
for  a  cock  of  the  same  kind  suddenly  flew  down 
nearby;  but  it  was  getting  dark,  I  missed  with  the 
first  shot,  and  with  the  second  must  have  merely 
creased  the  neck,  for  though  the  tough  old  bird 
dropped,  it  fluttered  and  ran  off  among  the  under 
brush  and  escaped. 

We  broiled  our  two  grouse  before  our  fire, 
'dragged  plenty  of  logs  into  a  heap  beside  it,  and 
then  lay  down  to  sleep  fitfully,  an  hour  or  so  at  a 
time,  throughout  the  night.  We  were  continually 
wakened  by  the  cold,  when  we  had  to  rise  and  feed 
the  flames.  In  the  early  morning  we  again  started, 
walking  for  some  time  along  the  fresh  trail  made  by 
a  large  band  of  elk,  cows  and  calves.  We  thought 
we  knew  exactly  the  trend  and  outlet  of  the  valley 
in  which  we  were,  and  that  therefore  we  could  tell 

7  VOL.  II. 


146  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

where  the  camp  was ;  but,  as  so  often  happens  in  the 
wilderness,  we  had  not  reckoned  aright,  having 
passed  over  one  mountain  spur  too  many,  and  en 
tered  the  ravines  of  an  entirely  different  watercourst- 
system.  In  consequence  we  became  entangled  in  a 
network  of  hills  and  valleys,  making  circle  after 
circle  to  find  our  bearings;  and  we  only  reached 
camp  after  twelve  hours'  tiresome  tramp  without 
food. 

On  another  occasion  I  shot  a  white  goat  while  it 
was  in  a  very  curious  and  characteristic  attitude. 
I  was  hunting,  again  with  an  old  mountain  man  as 
my  sole  companion,  among  the  high  mountains  of 
the  Kootenai  country,  near  the  border  of  Montana 
and  British  Columbia.  We  had  left  our  main  camp, 
pitched  by  the  brink  of  the  river,  and  were  strug 
gling  wearily  on  foot  through  the  tangled  forest  and 
over  the  precipitous  mountains,  carrying  on  our 
backs  light  packs,  consisting  of  a  little  food  and 
two  or  three  indispensable  utensils,  wrapped  in  our 
blankets.  One  day  we  came  to  the  foot  of  a  great 
chain  of  bare  rocks,  and  climbed  laboriously  to  its 
crest,  up  cliff  after  cliff,  some  of  which  were  almost 
perpendicular.  Swarming  round  certain  of  the  rock 
shoulders,  crossing  an  occasional  sheer  chasm,  and 
in  many  places  clinging  to  steep,  smooth  walls  by 
but  slight  holds,  we  reached  the  top.  The  climbing 
at  such  a  height  was  excessively  fatiguing;  more 
over,  it  was  in  places  difficult  and  even  dangerous. 


Mountain  Game  147 

Of  course  it  was  not  to  be  compared  to  the  ascent 
of  towering,  glacier-bearing  peaks,  such  as  those  of 
the  Selkirks  and  Alaska,  where  climbers  must  be 
roped  to  one  another  and  carry  ice  axes. 

Once  at  the  top  we  walked  very  cautiously,  being 
careful  not  to  show  ourselves  against  the  sky-line, 
and  scanning  the  mountain  sides  through  our  glasses, 
At  last  we  made  out  three  goats,  grazing  unconcern 
edly  on  a  narrow,  grassy  terrace,  which  sloped 
abruptly  to  the  brink  of  a  high  precipice.  They 
were  not  very  far  off,  and  there  was  a  little  rock 
spur  above  them  which  offered  good  cover  for  a 
stalk ;  but  we  had  to  crawl  so  slowly,  partly  to  avoid 
falling,  and  partly  to  avoid  detaching  loose  rocks, 
that  it  was  nearly  an  hour  before  we  got  in  a  favor 
able  position  above  them,  and  some  seventy  yards 
off.  The  frost-disintegrated  mountains  in  which 
they  live  are  always  sending  down  showers  of 
detached  stones,  so  that  the  goats  are  not  very 
sensitive  to  the  noise;  still,  they  sometimes  pay 
instantaneous  heed  to  it,  especially  if  the  sound  is 
repeated. 

When  I  peeped  over  the  little  ridge  of  rock,  shov 
ing  my  rifle  carefully  ahead  of  me,  I  found  that  the 
goats  had  finished  feeding  and  were  preparing  to 
leave  the  slope.  The  old  billy  saw  me  at  once,  but 
evidently  could  not  quite  make  me  out.  Thereupon, 
gazing  intently  at  me,  he  rose  gravely  on  his 
haunches,  sitting  up  almost  in  the  attitude  of  a  dog 


148  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

when  begging.  I  know  no  other  horned  animal  that 
ever  takes  this  position. 

As  I  fired  he  rolled  backward,  slipped  down  the 
grassy  slope,  and  tumbled  over  the  brink  of  the 
cliff,  while  the  other  two,  a  she  and  a  kid,  after  a 
moment's  panic-struck  pause,  and  a  bewildered  rush 
in  the  wrong  direction,  made  off  up  a  little  rocky 
gully,  and  were  out  of  sight  in  a  moment.  To  my 
chagrin  when  I  finally  reached  the  carcass,  after  a 
tedious  and  circuitous  climb  to  the  foot  of  the  cliff, 
I  found  both  horns  broken  off. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  we  clambered 
down  to  the  border  of  a  little  marshy  alpine  lake, 
which  we  reached  in  an  hour  or  so.  Here  we  made 
our  camp  about  sunset,  in  a  grove  of  stunted  spruces, 
which  furnished  plenty  of  dead  timber  for  the  fire. 
There  were  many  white-goat  trails  leading  to  this 
lake,  and  from  the  slide  rock  roundabout  we  heard 
the  shrill  whistling  of  hoary  rock-woodchucks,  and 
the  querulous  notes  of  the  little  conies — two  of 
the  sounds  most  familiar  to  the  white-goat  hunter. 
These  conies  had  gathered  heaps  of  dried  plants, 
and  had  stowed  them  carefully  away  for  winter  use 
in  the  cracks  between  the  rocks. 

While  descending  the  mountain  we  came  on  a  lit 
tle  pack  of  snow  grouse  or  mountain  ptarmigan, 
birds  which,  save  in  winter,  are  always  found  above 
timber  line.  They  were  tame  and  fearless,  though 
hard  to  make  out  as  they  ran  among  the  rocks, 


Mountain  Game  149 

cackling  noisily,  with  their  tails  cocked  aloft;  and 
we  had  no  difficulty  in  killing  four,  which  gave  us 
a  good  breakfast  and  supper.  Old  white  goats  are 
intolerably  musky  in  flavor,  there  being  a  very  large 
musk-pod  between  the  horn  and  ear.  The  kids  are 
eatable,  but  of  course  are  rarely  killed;  the  shot 
being  usually  taken  at  the  animal  with  best  horns — 
and  the  shes  and  young  of  any  game  should  only 
be  killed  when  there  is  a  real  necessity. 

These  two  hunts  may  be  taken  as  samples  of  most 
expeditions  after  white  goat.  There  are  places 
where  the  goats  live  in  mountains  close  to  bodies 
of  water,  either  ocean  fiords  or  large  lakes;  and  in 
such  places  canoes  can  be  used,  to  the  greatly  in 
creased  comfort  and  lessened  labor  of  the  hunters. 
In  other  places,  where  the  mountains  are  low  and 
the  goats  spend  all  the  year  in  the  timber,  a  pack- 
train  can  be  taken  right  up  to  the  hunting  grounds. 
But  generally  one  must  go  on  foot,  carrying  every 
thing  on  one's  back,  and  at  night  lying  out  in  the 
open  or  under  a  brush  lean-to ;  meanwhile  living  on 
spruce  grouse  and  ptarmigan,  with  an  occasional 
meal  of  trout,  and  in  times  of  scarcity  squirrels,  or 
anything  else.  Such  a  trip  entails  severe  fatigue 
and  not  a  little  hardship.  The  actual  hunting,  also, 
implies  difficult  and  laborious  climbing,  for  the  goats 
live  by  choice  among  the  highest  and  most  inacces 
sible  mountains;  though  where  they  are  found,  as 
they  sometimes  are,  in  comparatively  low  forest- 


150  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

clad  ranges,  I  have  occasionally  killed  them  with 
little  trouble  by  lying  in  wait  beside  the  well-trodden 
game  trails  they  make  in  the  timber. 

In  any  event  the  hard  work  is  to  get  up  to  the 
grounds  where  the  game  is  found.  Once  the  ani 
mals  are  spied  there  is  but  little  call  for  the  craft  of 
the  still-hunter  in  approaching  them.  Of  all  Amer 
ican  game  the  white  goat  is  the  least  wary  and  most 
stupid.  In  places  where  it  is  much  hunted  it  of 
course  gradually  grows  wilder  and  becomes  diffi 
cult  to  approach  and  kill ;  and  much  of  its  silly  tame- 
ness  is  doubtless  due  to  the  inaccessible  nature  of  its 
haunts,  which  renders  it  ordinarily  free  from  moles 
tation;  but  aside  from  this  it  certainly  seems  as  if 
it  was  naturally  less  wary  than  either  deer  or  moun 
tain  sheep.  The  great  point  is  to  get  above  it.  All 
its  foes  live  in  the  valleys,  and  while  it  is  in  the 
mountains,  if  they  strive  to  approach  it  at  all,  they 
must  do  so  from  below.  It  is  in  consequence  al 
ways  on  the  watch  for  danger  from  beneath;  but  it 
is  easily  approached  from  above,  and  then,  as  it  gen 
erally  tries  to  escape  by  running  up  hill,  the  hunter 
is  very  apt  to  get  a  shot. 

Its  chase  is  thus  laborious  rather  than  exciting; 
and  to  my  mind  it  is  less  attractive  than  is  the  pur 
suit  of  most  of  our  other  game.  Yet  it  has  an  at 
traction  of  its  own  after  all;  while  the  grandeur  of 
the  scenery  amid  which  it  must  be  carried  on,  the 
freedom  and  hardihood  of  the  life  and  the  pleasure 


Mountain  Game  151 

of  watching  the  queer  habits  of  the  game,  all  com 
bine  to  add  to  the  hunter's  enjoyment. 

White  goats  are  self-confident,  pugnacious  be 
ings.  An  old  billy,  if  he  discovers  the  presence  of 
a  foe  without  being  quite  sure  what  it  is,  often  re 
fuses  to  take  flight,  but  walks  around,  stamping,  and 
shaking  his  head.  The  needle-pointed  black  horns 
are  alike  in  both  sexes,  save  that  the  males'  are  a 
trifle  thicker;  and  they  are  most  effective  weapons 
when  wielded  by  the  muscular  neck  of  a  resolute  and 
wicked  old  goat.  They  wound  like  stilettos  and 
their  bearer  is  in  consequence  a  much  more  formi 
dable  foe  in  a  hand-to-hand  struggle  than  either  a 
branching-antlered  deer  or  a  mountain  ram,  with  his 
great  battering  head.  The  goat  does  not  butt;  he 
thrusts.  If  he  can  cover  his  back  by  a  tree  trunk 
or  bowlder  he  can  stand  off  most  carnivorous  ani 
mals  no  larger  than  he  is. 

Though  awkward  in  movement,  and  lacking  all 
semblance  of  lightness  or  agility,  goats  are  excel 
lent  climbers.  One  of  their  queer  traits  is  their  way 
of  getting  their  forehoofs  on  a  slight  ledge,  and  then 
drawing  or  lifting  their  bodies  up  by  simple  mus 
cular  exertion,  stretching  out  their  elbows,  much  as 
a  man  would.  They  do  a  good  deal  of  their  climb 
ing  by  strength  and  command  over  their  muscles; 
although  they  are  also  capable  of  making  aston 
ishing  bounds.  If  a  cliff  surface  has  the  least  slope, 
and  shows  any  inequalities  or  roughness  whatever, 


152  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

goats  can  go  up  and  down  it  with  ease.  With  their 
short,  stout  legs,  and  large,  sharp-edged  hoofs  they 
clamber  well  over  ice,  passing  and  repassing  the 
mountains  at  a  time  when  no  man  would  so  much 
as  crawl  over  them.  They  bear  extreme  cold  with 
indifference,  but  are  intolerant  of  much  heat;  even 
when  the  weather  is  cool  they  are  apt  to  take  their 
noontide  rest  in  caves;  I  have  seen  them  solemnly 
retiring,  for  this  purpose,  to  great  rents  in  the  rocks, 
at  a  time  when  my  own  teeth  chattered  because  of 
the  icy  wind. 

They  go  in  small  flocks;  sometimes  in  pairs  or 
little  family  parties.  After  the  rut  the  bucks  often 
herd  by  themselves,  or  go  off  alone,  while  the  young 
and  the  shes  keep  together  throughout  the  winter 
and  the  spring.  The  young  are  generally  brought 
forth  above  timber  line,  or  at  its  uppermost  edge, 
save  of  course  in  those  places  where  the  goats  live 
among  the  mountains  wooded  to  the  top.  Through 
out  the  summer  they  graze  on  the  short  mountain 
plants  which  in  many  places  form  regular  mats  above 
timber  line;  the  deep  winter  snows  drive  them  low 
down  in  the  wooded  valleys,  and  force  them  to  sub 
sist  by  browsing.  They  are  so  strong  that  they  plow 
their  way  readily  through  deep  drifts;  and  a  flock 
of  goats  at  this  season,  when  their  white  coat  is  very 
long  and  thick,  if  seen  waddling  off  through  the 
snow,  have  a  comical  likeness  to  so  many  dimin 
utive  polar  bears.  Of  course  they  could  easily  be 


Mountain  Game  153 

run  down  in  the  snow  by  a  man  on  snowshoes,  in  the 
plain;  but  on  a  mountain  side  there  are  always 
bare  rocks  and  cliff  shoulders,  glassy  with  winter 
ice,  which  give  either  goats  or  sheep  an  advantage 
over  their  snowshoe-bearing  foes  that  deer  and  elk 
lack.  Whenever  the  goats  pass  the  winter  in  wood 
land  they  leave  plenty  of  sign  in  the  shape  of  patches 
of  wool  clinging  to  all  the  sharp  twigs  and  branches 
against  which  they  have  brushed.  In  the  spring 
they  often  form  the  habit  of  drinking  at  certain  low 
pools,  to  which  they  beat  deep  paths;  and  at  this 
season,  and  to  a  less  extent  in  the  summer  and  fall, 
they  are  very  fond  of  frequenting  mineral  licks. 
At  any  such  lick  the  ground  is  tramped  bare  of 
vegetation,  and  is  filled  with  pits  and  hollows,  actual 
ly  dug  by  the  tongues  of  innumerable  generations 
of  animals ;  while  the  game  paths  lead  from  them  in 
a  dozen  directions. 

In  spite  of  the  white  goat's  pugnacity,  its  clumsi 
ness  renders  it  no  very  difficult  prey  when  taken 
unawares  by  either  wolf  or  cougar,  its  two  chief 
enemies.  They  can  not  often  catch  it  when  it  is 
above  timber  line ;  but  it  is  always  in  sore  peril  from 
them  when  it  ventures  into  the  forest.  Bears,  also, 
prey  upon  it  in  the  early  spring ;  and  one  midwinter 
my  friend  Willis  found  a  wolverine  eating  a  goat 
which  it  had  killed  in  a  snowdrift  at  the  foot  of  a 
cliff.  The  savage  little  beast  growled  and  showed 
fight  when  he  came  near  the  body.  Eagles  are  great 


154  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

enemies  of  the  young  kids,  as  they  are  of  the  young 
lambs  of  the  bighorn. 

The  white  goat  is  the  only  game  beast  of  America 
which  has  not  decreased  in  numbers  since  the  ar 
rival  of  the  white  man.  Although  in  certain  local 
ities  it  is  now  decreasing,  yet,  taken  as  a  whole,  it 
is  probably  quite  as  plentiful  now  as  it  was  fifty 
years  back;  for  in  the  early  part  of  the  present 
century  there  were  Indian  tribes  who  hunted  it 
perseveringly  to  make  the  skins  into  robes,  whereas 
now  they  get  blankets  from  the  traders  and  no 
longer  persecute  the  goats.  The  early  trappers  and 
mountain-men  knew  but  little  of  the  animal. 
Whether  they  were  after  beaver,  or  were  hunting 
big  game  or  were  merely  exploring,  they  kept  to 
the  valleys;  there  was  no  inducement  for  them  to 
climb  to  the  tops  of  the  mountains;  so  it  resulted 
that  there  was  no  animal  with  which  the  old  hunt 
ers  were  so  unfamiliar  as  with  the  white  goat.  The 
professional  hunters  of  to-day  likewise  bother  it 
but  little;  they  do  not  care  to  undergo  severe  toil 
for  an  animal  with  worthless  flesh  and  a  hide  of  little 
value — for  it  is  only  in  the  late  fall  and  winter  that 
the  long  hair  and  fine  wool  give  the  robe  any  beauty. 

So  the  quaint,  sturdy,  musky  beasts,  with  their 
queer  and  awkward  ways,  their  boldness  and  their 
stupidity,  with  their  white  coats  and  big  black  hoofs, 
black  muzzles,  and  sharp,  gently  curved  span-long 
black  horns,  have  held  their  own  well  among  the 


Mountain  Game  155 

high  mountains  that  they  love.  In  the  Rockies  and 
the  Coast  ranges  they  abound  from  Alaska  south  to 
Montana,  Idaho,  and  Washington;  and  here  and 
there  isolated  colonies  are  found  among  the  high 
mountains  to  the  southward,  in  Wyoming,  Colorado, 
even  in  New  Mexico,  and,  strangest  of  all,  in  one 
or  two  spots  among  the  barren  coast  mountains  of 
southern  California.  Long  after  the  elk  has  followed 
the  buffalo  to  the  happy  hunting  grounds  the  white 
goat  will  flourish  among  the  towering  and  glacier- 
riven  peaks,  and,  grown  wary  with  succeeding  gen 
erations,  will  furnish  splendid  sport  to  those  hunters 
who  are  both  good  riflemen  and  hardy  cragsmen. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

HUNTING  IN   THE   SELKIRKS  J   THE   CARIBOU 

IN  September,  1888,  I  was  camped  on  the  shores 
of  Kootenai  Lake,  having  with  me  as  companions 
John  Willis  and  an  impassive-looking  Indian  named 
Ammal.  Coming  across  through  the  dense  coniferous 
forests  of  northern  Idaho  we  had  struck  the  Koo 
tenai  River.  Then  we  went  down  with  the  current 
as  it  wound  in  half  circles  through  a  long  alluvial 
valley  of  mixed  marsh  and  woodland,  hemmed  in 
by  lofty  mountains.  The  lake  itself,  when  we 
reached  it,  stretched  straight  away  like  a  great  fiord, 
a  hundred  miles  long  and  about  three  in  breadth. 
The  frowning  and  rugged  Selkirks  came  down  sheer 
to  the  water's  edge.  So  straight  were  the  rock  walls 
that  it  was  difficult  for  us  to  land  with  our  batteau, 
save  at  the  places  where  the  rapid  mountain  torrents 
entered  the  lake.  As  these  streams  of  swift  water 
broke  from  their  narrow  gorges  they  made  little 
deltas  of  level  ground  with  beaches  of  fine  white 
sand ;  and  the  stream-banks  were  edged  with  cotton- 
wood  and  poplar,  their  shimmering  foliage  reliev 
ing  the  sombre  coloring  of  the  evergreen  forest. 

Close  to  such  a  brook,  from  which  we  drew  strings 
of  large  silver  trout,  our  tent  was  pitched,  just  with- 
(156) 


Hunting  in   the   Selkirks  157 

in  the  forest.  From  between  the  trunks  of  two 
gnarled,  wind-beaten  trees,  a  pine  and  a  cotton- 
wood,  we  looked  out  across  the  lake.  The  little  bay 
in  our  front,  in  which  we  bathed  and  swam,  was 
sometimes  glassily  calm;  and  again  heavy  wind 
squalls  arose,  and  the  surf  beat  strongly  on  the 
beach  where  our  boat  was  drawn  up.  Now  and 
then  great  checker-back  loons  drifted  buoyantly  by, 
stopping  with  bold  curiosity  to  peer  at  the  white  tent 
gleaming  between  the  tree  trunks,  and  at  the  smoke 
curling  above  their  tops;  and  they  called  to  one 
another,  both  at  dawn  and  in  the  daytime,  with 
shrieks  of  unearthly  laughter.  Troops  of  noisy, 
party-colored  Clark's  crows  circled  over  the  tree-tops 
or  hung  from  among  the  pine  cones;  jays  and 
chickadees  came  round  the  camp,  and  woodpeckers 
hammered  lustily  in  the  dead  timber.  Two  or  three 
times  parties  of  Indians  passed  down  the  lake,  in 
strangely  shaped  bark  canoes,  with  peaked,  project 
ing  prows  and  sterns ;  craft  utterly  unlike  the  grace 
ful,  feather-floating  birches  so  beloved  by  both  the 
red  and  the  white  woodsmen  of  the  Northeast. 
Once  a  couple  of  white  men,  in  a  dugout  or  pirogue 
made  out  of  a  cottonwood  log,  stopped  to  get  lunch. 
They  were  mining  prospectors,  French  Canadians 
by  birth,  but  beaten  into  the  usual  frontier-mining 
stamp;  doomed  to  wander  their  lives  long,  ever 
hoping,  in  the  quest  for  metal  wealth. 

With  these  exceptions  there  was  nothing  to  break 


158  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

the  silent  loneliness  of  the  great  lake.  Shrouded  as 
we  were  in  the  dense  forest,  and  at  the  foot  of  the 
first  steep  hills,  we  could  see  nothing  of  the  country 
on  the  side  where  we  were  camped;  but  across  the 
water  the  immense  mountain  masses  stretched  away 
from  our  vision,  range  upon  range,  until  they  turned 
to  a  glittering  throng  of  ice  peaks  and  snow  fields, 
the  feeding  beds  of  glaciers.  Between  the  lake  and 
the  snow  range  were  chains  of  gray  rock  peaks,  and 
the  mountain  sides  and  valleys  were  covered  by  the 
primeval  forest.  The  woods  were  on  fire  across  the 
lake  from  our  camp,  burning  steadily.  At  night  the 
scene  was  very  grand,  as  the  fire  worked  slowly 
across  the  mountain  sides  in  immense  zigzags  of 
quivering  red;  while  at  times  isolated  pines  of  un 
usual  size  kindled,  and  flamed  for  hours,  like  the 
torches  of  a  giant.  Finally  the  smoke  grew  so  thick 
as  to  screen  from  our  views  the  grand  landscape 
opposite. 

We  had  come  down  from  a  week's  fruitless  hunt 
ing  in  the  mountains;  a  week  of  excessive  toil,  in  a 
country  where  we  saw  no  game — for  in  our  igno 
rance  we  had  wasted  time,  not  going  straight  back 
to  the  high  ranges,  from  which  the  game  had  not 
yet  descended.  After  three  or  four  days  of  rest, 
and  of  feasting  on  trout — a  welcome  relief  to  the 
monotony  of  frying-pan  bread  and  coarse  salt  pork 
— we  were  ready  for  another  trial;  and  early  one 
morning  we  made  the  start.  Having  to  pack  every- 


Hunting  in   the   Selkirks  159 

thing  for  a  fortnight's  use  on  our  backs,  through  an 
excessively  rough  country  we  of  course  traveled  as 
light  as  possible,  leaving  almost  all  we  had  with  the 
tent  and  boat.  Each  took  his  own  blanket;  and 
among  us  we  carried  a  frying-pan,  a  teapot,  flour, 
pork,  salt,  tea,  and  matches.  I  also  took  a  jacket,  a 
spare  pair  of  socks,  some  handkerchiefs,  and  my 
washing  kit.  Fifty  cartridges  in  my  belt  completed 
my  outfit. 

We  walked  in  single  file,  as  is  necessary  in  thick 
woods.  The  white  hunter  led  and  I  followed,  each 
with  rifle  on  shoulder  and  pack  on  back.  Ammal, 
the  Indian,  pigeon-toed  along  behind,  carrying  his 
pack,  not  as  we  did  ours,  but  by  help  of  a  forehead- 
band,  which  he  sometimes  shifted  across  his  breast. 
The  traveling  through  the  tangled,  brush-choked 
forest,  and  along  the  bowlder-strewn  and  precipitous 
mountain  sides,  was  inconceivably  rough  and  diffi 
cult.  In  places  we  followed  the  valley,  and  when 
this  became  impossible  we  struck  across  the  spurs. 
Every  step  was  severe  toil.  Now  we  walked  through 
deep  moss  and  rotting  mould,  every  few  feet  clam 
bering  over  huge  trunks ;  again  we  pushed  through 
a  stiff  jungle  of  bushes  and  tall,  prickly  plants — 
called  "devil's  clubs," — which  stung  our  hands  and 
faces.  Up  the  almost  perpendicular  hillsides  we  in 
many  places  went  practically  on  all  fours,  forcing 
our  way  over  the  rocks  and  through  the  dense  thick 
ets  of  laurels  or  young  spruce.  Where  there  were 


160  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

windfalls  or  great  stretches  of  burned  forest,  black 
and  barren  wastes,  we  balanced  and  leaped  from  log 
to  log,  sometimes  twenty  or  thirty  feet  above  the 
ground;  and  when  such  a  stretch  was  on  a  steep 
hillside,  and  especially  if  the  logs  were  enveloped 
in  a  thick  second  growth  of  small  evergreens,  the 
footing  was  very  insecure,  and  the  danger  from  a 
fall  considerable.  Our  packs  added  greatly  to  our 
labor,  catching  on  the  snags  and  stubs;  and  where 
a  grove  of  thick-growing  young  spruces  or  balsams 
had  been  burned,  the  stiff  and  brittle  twigs  pricked 
like  so  much  coral.  Most  difficult  of  all  were  the 
dry  watercourses,  choked  with  alders,  where  the  in 
tertwined  tangle  of  tough  stems  formed  an  almost 
literally  impenetrable  barrier  to  our  progress. 
Nearly  every  movement — leaping,  climbing,  swing 
ing  one's  self  up  with  one's  hands,  bursting  through 
stiff  bushes,  plunging  into  and  out  of  bogs — was  one 
of  strain  and  exertion ;  the  fatigue  was  tremendous, 
and  steadily  continued,  so  that  in  an  hour  every 
particle  of  clothing  I  had  on  was  wringing  wet  with 
sweat. 

At  noon  we  halted  beside  a  little  brook  for  a  bite 
of  lunch — a  chunk  of  cold  frying-pan  bread,  which 
was  all  we  had. 

While  at  lunch  I  made  a  capture.  I  was  sitting 
on  a  great  stone  by  the  edge  of  the  brook,  idly  gaz 
ing  at  a  water-wren  which  had  come  up  from  a 
short  flight — I  can  call  it  nothing  else — underneath 


Hunting   in   the   Selkirks  161 

the  water,  and  was  singing  sweetly  from  a  spray- 
splashed  log.  Suddenly  a  small  animal  swam  across 
the  little  pool  at  my  feet.  It  was  less  in  size  than  a 
mouse,  and  as  it  paddled  rapidly  underneath  the 
water  its  body  seemed  flattened  like  a  disk  and  was 
spangled  with  tiny  bubbles,  like  specks  of  silver.  It 
was  a  water-shrew,  a  rare  little  beast.  I  sat  motion 
less  and  watched  both  the  shrew  and  the  water-wren 
— water-ousel,  as  it  should  rightly  be  named.  The 
latter,  emboldened  by  my  quiet,  presently  flew  by  me 
to  a  little  rapids  close  at  hand,  lighting  on  a  round 
stone,  and  then  slipping  unconcernedly  into  the  swift 
water.  Anon  he  emerged,  stood  on  another  stone, 
and  trilled  a  few  bars,  though  it  was  late  in  the 
season  for  singing,  and  then  dived  again  into  the 
stream. 

I  gazed  at  him  eagerly;  for  this  strange,  pretty 
water-thrush  is  to  me  one  of  the  most  attractive  and 
interesting  birds  to  be  found  in  the  gorges  of  the 
great  Rockies.  Its  haunts  are  romantically  beauti 
ful,  for  it  always  dwells  beside  and  in  the  swift-flow 
ing  mountain  brooks ;  it  has  a  singularly  sweet  song ; 
and  its  ways  render  it  a  marked  bird  at  once,  for, 
though  looking  much  like  a  sober-colored,  ordinary 
woodland  thrush,  it  spends  half  its  time  under  the 
water,  walking  along  the  bottom,  swimming  and 
diving,  and  flitting  through  as  well  as  over  the 
cataracts. 

In  a  minute  or  two  the  shrew  caught  my  eye 


1 62  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

again.  It  got  into  a  little  shallow  eddy  and  caught 
a  minute  fish,  which  it  carried  to  a  half-sunken  stone 
and  greedily  devoured,  tugging  voraciously  at  it 
as  it  held  it  down  with  its  paws.  Then  its  evil  gen 
ius  drove  it  into  a  small  puddle  alongside  the  brook, 
where  I  instantly  pounced  on  and  slew  it ;  for  I  knew 
a  friend  in  the  Smithsonian  at  Washington  who 
would  have  coveted  it  greatly.  It  was  a  soft,  pretty 
creature,  dark  above,  snow-white  below,  with  a  very 
long  tail.  I  turned  the  skin  inside  out  and  put  a 
bent  twig  in,  that  it  might  dry;  while  Ammal,  who 
had  been  intensely  interested  in  the  chase  and  cap 
ture,  meditatively  shook  his  head  and  said  "wagh," 
unable  to  fathom  the  white  man's  medicine.  How 
ever,  my  labor  came  to  naught,  for  that  evening  I 
laid  the  skin  out  on  a  log,  Ammal  threw  the  log  into 
the  fire,  and  that  was  the  end  of  the  shrew. 

When  this  interlude  was  over  we  resumed  our 
march,  toiling  silently  onward  through  the  wild  and 
rugged  country.  Toward  evening  the  valley  wi 
dened  a  little,  and  we  were  able  to  walk  in  the  bot 
toms,  which  much  lightened  our  labor.  The  hunter, 
for  greater  ease,  had  tied  the  thongs  of  his  heavy 
pack  across  his  breast,  so  that  he  could  not  use  his 
rifle;  but  my  pack  was  lighter,  and  I  carried  it  in  a 
manner  that  would  not  interfere  with  my  shooting, 
lest  we  should  come  unwares  on  game. 

It  was  well  that  I  did  so.  An  hour  or  two  be 
fore  sunset  we  were  traveling,  as  usual,  in  Indian 


Hunting  in   the   Selkirks  163 

file,  beside  the  stream,  through  an  open  wood  of 
great  hemlock  trees.  There  was  no  breeze,  and  we 
made  no  sound  as  we  marched,  for  our  feet  sunk 
noiselessly  into  the  deep  spong'e  of  moss,  while  the 
incessant  dashing  of  the  torrent,  churning  among 
the  stones,  would  have  drowned  a  far  louder  ad 
vance. 

Suddenly  the  hunter,  who  was  leading,  dropped 
down  in  his  tracks,  pointing  forward;  and  some 
fifty  feet  beyond  I  saw  the  head  and  shoulders  of 
a  bear  as  he  rose  to  make  a  sweep  at  some  berries. 
He  was  in  a  hollow  where  a  tall,  rank,  prickly  plant, 
with  broad  leaves,  grew  luxuriantly;  and  he  was 
gathering  its  red  berries,  rising  on  his  hind  legs  and 
sweeping  them  down  into  his  mouth  with  his  paw, 
and  was  much  too  intent  on  his  work  to  notice  us, 
for  his  head  was  pointed  the  other  way.  The  mo 
ment  he  rose  again  I  fired,  meaning  to  shoot  through 
the  shoulders,  but  instead,  in  the  hurry,  taking  him 
in  the  neck.  Down  he  went,  but  whether  hurt  or 
not  we  could  not  see,  for  the  second  he  was  on  all 
fours  he  was  no  longer  visible.  Rather  to  my  sur 
prise  he  uttered  no  sound — for  bear  when  hit  or 
when  charging  often  make  a  great  noise — so  I  raced 
forward  to  the  edge  of  the  hollow,  the  hunter  close 
behind  me,  while  Ammal  danced  about  in  the  rear, 
very  much  excited,  as  Indians  always  are  in  the 
presence  of  big  game.  The  instant  we  reached  the 
hollow  and  looked  down  into  it  from  the  low  bank 


164  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

on  which  we  stood  we  saw  by  the  swaying  of  the 
tall  plants  that  the  bear  was  coming  our  way.  The 
hunter  was  standing  some  ten  feet  distant,  a  hem 
lock  trunk  being  between  us;  and  the  next  mo 
ment  the  bear  sprang  clean  up  the  bank  the  other 
side  of  the  hemlock,  and  almost  within  arm's-length 
of  my  companion.  I  do  not  think  he  had  intended 
to  charge;  he  was  probably  confused  by  the  bullet 
through  his  neck,  and  had  by  chance  blundered  out 
of  the  hollow  in  our  direction ;  but  when  he  saw  the 
hunter  so  close  he  turned  for  him,  his  hair  bristling 
and  his  teeth  showing.  The  man  had  no  cartridge 
in  his  weapon,  and  with  his  pack  on  could  not  have 
used  it  anyhow;  and  for  a  moment  it  looked  as  if 
he  stood  a  fair  chance  of  being  hurt,  though  it  is 
not  likely  that  the  bear  would  have  done  more  than 
knock  him  down  with  his  powerful  forepaw,  or  per 
chance  give  him  a  single  bite  in  passing.  However, 
as  the  beast  sprang  out  of  the  hollow  he  poised  for 
a  second  on  the  edge  of  the  bank  to  recover  his  bal 
ance,  giving  me  a  beautiful  shot,  as  he  stood  side- 
wise  to  me;  the  bullet  struck  between  the  eye  and 
ear,  and  he  fell  as  if  hit  with  a  pole  axe. 

Immediately  the  Indian  began  jumping  about  the 
body,  uttering  wild  yells,  his  usually  impassive  face 
lighted  up  with  excitement,  while  the  hunter  and  I 
stood  at  rest,  leaning  on  our  rifles  and  laughing. 
It  was  a  strange  scene,  the  dead  bear  lying  in  the 
shade  of  the  giant  hemlocks,  while  the  fantastic- 


Hunting  in   the   Selkirks  165 

looking  savage  danced  round  him  with  shrill  whoops, 
and  the  tall  frontiersman  looked  quietly  on. 

Our  prize  was  a  large  black  bear,  with  two  curi 
ous  brown  streaks  down  his  back,  one  on  each  side 
the  spine.  We  skinned  him  and  camped  by  the  car 
cass,  as  it  was  growing  late.  To  take  the  chill  off 
the  evening  air  we  built  a  huge  fire,  the  logs  roaring 
and  crackling.  To  one  side  of  it  we  made  our  beds 
— of  balsam  and  hemlock  boughs;  we  did  not  build 
a  brush  lean-to,  because  the  night  seemed  likely  to 
be  clear.  Then  we  supped  on  sugarless  tea,  frying- 
pan  bread,  and  quantities  of  bear  meat,  fried  or 
roasted — and  how  very  good  it  tasted  only  those 
know  who  have  gone  through  much  hardship  and 
some  little  hunger,  and  have  worked  violently  for 
several  days  without  flesh  food.  After  eating  our 
fill  we  stretched  ourselves  around  the  fire;  the  leap 
ing  sheets  of  flame  lighted  the  tree  trunks  round 
about,  causing  them  to  start  out  against  the  caver 
nous  blackness  beyond,  and  reddened  the  inter 
lacing  branches  that  formed  a  canopy  overhead. 
The  Indian  sat  on  his  haunches,  gazing  steadily  and 
silently  into  the  pile  of  blazing  logs,  while  the  white 
hunter  and  I  talked  together. 

The  morning  after  killing  Bruin,  we  again  took  up 
our  march,  heading  up  stream,  that  we  might  go 
to  its  sources  amid  the  mountains,  where  the  snow 
fields  fed  its  springs.  It  was  two  full  days'  journey 
thither,  but  we  took  much  longer  to  make  it,  as  we 


1 66  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

kept  halting  to  hunt  the  adjoining  mountains.  On 
such  occasions  Ammal  was  left  as  camp  guard, 
while  the  white  hunter  and  I  would  start  by  day 
break  and  return  at  dark  utterly  worn  out  by  the 
excessive  fatigue.  We  knew  nothing  of  caribou, 
nor  where  to  hunt  for  them ;  and  we  had  been  told 
that  thus  early  in  the  season  they  were  above  tree 
limit  on  the  mountain  sides.  Accordingly  we  would 
climb  up  to  the  limits  of  the  forests,  but  never  found 
a  caribou  trail ;  and  once  or  twice  we  went  on  to  the 
summits  of  the  crag-peaks,  and  across  the  deep 
snow  fields  in  the  passes.  There  were  plenty  of 
white  goats,  however,  their  trails  being  broad  paths, 
especially  at  one  spot  where  they  led  down  to  a  lick 
in  the  valley;  round  the  lick  for  a  space  of  many 
yards  the  ground  was  trampled  as  if  in  a  sheepfold. 
The  mountains  were  very  steep,  and  the  climbing 
was  in  places  dangerous,  when  we  were  above  the 
timber  and  had  to  make  our  way  along  the  jagged 
knife-crests  and  across  the  faces  of  the  cliffs;  while 
our  hearts  beat  as  if  about  to  burst  in  the  high,  thin 
air.  In  walking  over  rough  but  not  dangerous 
ground — across  slides  or  in  thick  timber — my  com 
panion  was  far  more  skilful  than  I  was;  but  rather 
to  my  surprise  I  proved  to  be  nearly  as  good  as  he 
when  we  came  to  the  really  dangerous  places,  where 
we  had  to  go  slowly,  and  let  one  another  down 
from  ledge  to  ledge,  or  crawl  by  narrow  cracks 
across  the  rock  walls. 


Hunting  in   the   Selkirks  167 

The  view  from  the  summits  was  magnificent,  and 
I  never  tired  of  gazing  at  it.  Sometimes  the  sky 
was  a  dome  of  blue  crystal,  and  mountain,  lake, 
and  valley  lay  spread  in  startling  clearness  at  our 
very  feet;  and  again  snow-peak  and  rock-peak  were 
thrust  up  like  islands  through  a  sea  of  billowy  clouds. 
At  the  feet  of  the  topmost  peaks,  just  above  the 
edge  of  the  forest,  were  marshy  alpine  valleys,  the 
boggy  ground  soaked  with  water,  and  small  bushes 
or  stunted  trees  fringing  the  icy  lakes.  In  the  stony 
mountain  sides  surrounding  these  lakes  there  were 
hoary  woodchucks  and  conies.  The  former  resem 
bled  in  their  habits  the  alpine  marmot,  rather  than 
our  own  common  Eastern  woodchuck.  They  lived 
alone  or  in  couples  among  the  rocks,  their  gray 
color  often  making  them  difficult  to  see  as  they 
crouched  at  the  mouths  of  their  burrows,  or  sat 
bolt  upright;  and  as  an  alarm  note  they  uttered  a 
loud  piercing  whistle,  a  strong  contrast  to  the  quer 
ulous,  plaintive  "p-a-a-y"  of  the  timid  conies.  These 
likewise  loved  to  dwell  where  the  stones  and  slabs 
of  rock  were  heaped  on  one  another;  though  so 
timid,  they  were  not  nearly  as  wary  as  the  wood- 
chucks.  If  we  stood  quite  still  the  little  brown 
creatures  would  venture  away  from  their  holes  and 
hop  softly  over  the  rocks  as  if  we  were  not  present. 

The  white  goats  were  too  musky  to  eat,  and  we 
saw  nothing  else  to  shoot;  so  we  speedily  became 
reduced  to  tea,  and  to  bread  baked  in  the  frying-pan, 


1 68  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

save  every  now  and  then  for  a  feast  on  the  luscious 
mountain  blueberries.  This  rather  meagre  diet, 
coupled  with  incessant  fatigue  and  exertion,  made 
us  fairly  long  for  meat  food ;  and  we  fell  off  in  flesh, 
though  of  course  in  so  short  a  time  we  did  not  suffer 
in  either  health  or  strength.  Fortunately  the  nights 
were  too  cool  for  mosquitoes;  but  once  or  twice  in 
the  afternoons,  while  descending  the  lower  slopes  of 
the  mountains,  we  were  much  bothered  by  swarms  of 
gnats;  they  worried  us  greatly,  usually  attacking  us 
at  a  time  when  we  had  to  go  fast  in  order  to  reach 
camp  before  dark,  while  the  roughness  of  the  ground 
forced  us  to  use  both  hands  in  climbing,  and  thus 
forbade  us  to  shield  our  faces  from  our  tiny  tor 
mentors.  Our  chief  luxury  was,  at  the  end  of  the 
day,  when  footsore  and  weary,  to  cast  aside  our 
sweat-drenched  clothes  and  plunge  into  the  icy 
mountain  torrent  for  a  moment's  bath  that  fresh 
ened  us  as  if  by  magic.  The  nights  were  generally 
pleasant,  and  we  slept  soundly  on  our  beds  of  balsam 
boughs,  but  once  or  twice  there  were  sharp  frosts, 
and  it  was  so  cold  that  the  hunter  and  I  huddled 
together  for  warmth  and  kept  the  fires  going  till 
morning.  One  day,  when  we  were  on  the  march, 
it  rained  heavily,  and  we  were  soaked  through,  and 
stiff  and  chilly  when  we  pitched  camp;  but  we  speed 
ily  built  a  great  brush  lean-to,  made  a  roaring  fire  in 
front,  and  grew  once  more  to  warmth  and  comfort 
as  we  sat  under  our  steaming  shelter,  The  only 


Hunting  in   the   Selkirks  169 

discomfort  we  really  minded  was  an  occasional  night 
in  wet  blankets. 

In  the  evening  the  Indian  and  the  white  hunter 
played  interminable  games  of  seven-up  with  a  greasy 
pack  of  cards.  In  the  course  of  his  varied  life  the 
hunter  had  been  a  professional  gambler;  and  he 
could  have  easily  won  all  the  Indian's  money,  the 
more  speedily  inasmuch  as  the  untutored  red  man 
was  always  attempting  to  cheat,  and  was  thus  giv 
ing  his  far  more  skilful  opponent  a  certain  right  to 
try  some  similar  deviltry  in  return.  However,  it 
was  distinctly  understood  that  there  should  be  no 
gambling,  for  I  did  not  wish  Ammal  to  lose  all  his 
wages  while  in  my  employ ;  and  the  white  man  stood 
loyally  by  his  agreement.  Animal's  people,  just  be 
fore  I  engaged  him,  had  been  visited  by  their  breth 
ren,  the  Upper  Kootenais,  and  in  a  series  of  gam 
bling  matches  had  lost  about  all  their  belongings. 

Ammal  himself  was  one  of  the  Lower  Kootenais ; 
I  had  hired  him  for  the  trip,  as  the  Indians  west  of 
the  Rockies,  unlike  their  kinsmen  of  the  plains,  often 
prove  hard  and  willing  workers.  His  knowledge  of 
English  was  almost  nil;  and  our  very  scanty  con 
versation  was  carried  on  in  the  Chinook  jargon, 
universally  .employed  between  the  mountains  and  the 
Pacific.  Apparently  he  had  three  names:  for  he 
assured  us  that  his  "Boston"  (i.e.  American)  name 
was  Ammal;  his  "Siwash"  (i.e.  Indian)  name  was 
Appak ;  arid  that  the  priest  called  him  Abel — for  the 

8  VOL.  II. 


1 70  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

Lower  Kootenais  are  nominally  Catholics.  What 
ever  his  name  he  was  a  good  Indian,  as  Indians  go. 
I  often  tried  to  talk  with  him  about  game  and  hunt 
ing,  but  we  understood  each  other  too  little  to  ex 
change  more  than  the  most  rudimentary  ideas.  His 
face  brightened  one  night  when  I  happened  to  tell 
him  of  my  baby  boys  at  home;  he  must  have  been 
an  affectionate  father  in  his  way,  this  dark  Ammal, 
for  he  at  once  proceeded  to  tell  me  about  his  own 
papoose,  who  had  also  seen  one  snow,  and  to  de 
scribe  how  the  little  fellow  was  old  enough  to  take 
one  step  and  then  fall  down.  But  he  never  dis 
played  so  much  vivacity  as  on  one  occasion  when  the 
white  hunter  happened  to  relate  to  him  a  rather 
grewsome  feat  of  one  of  their  mutual  acquaintances, 
an  Upper  Kootenai  Indian  named  Three  Coyotes. 
The  latter  was  a  quarrelsome,  adventurous  Indian, 
with  whom  the  hunter  had  once  had  a  difficulty — "I 
had  to  beat  the  cuss  over  the  head  with  my  gun  a 
little,"  he  remarked  parenthetically.  His  last  feat 
had  been  done  in  connection  with  a  number  of  China 
men  who  had  been  working  among  some  placer 
mines,  where  the  Indians  came  to  visit  them.  Now, 
the  astute  Chinese  are  as  fond  of  gambling  as  any  of 
the  borderers,  white  or  red,  and  are  very  successful, 
generally  fleecing  the  Indians  unmercifully.  Three 
Coyotes  lost  all  he  possessed  to  one  of  the  pigtailed 
gentry ;  but  he  apparently  took  his  losses  philosoph 
ically,  and  pleasantly  followed  the  victor  round,  un- 


Hunting  in  the   Selkirks  171 

til  the  latter  had  won  all  the  cash  and  goods  of 
several  other  Indians.  Then  he  suddenly  fell  on  the 
exile  from  the  Celestial  Empire,  slew  him  and  took 
all  his  plunder,  retiring  unmolested,  as  it  did  not 
seem  any  one's  business  to  avenge  a  mere  Chinaman. 
Ammal  was  immensely  interested  in  the  tale,  and 
kept  recurring  to  it  again  and  again,  taking  two  lit 
tle  sticks  and  making  the  hunter  act  out  the  whole 
story.  The  Kootenais  were  then  only  just  begin 
ning  to  consider  the  Chinese  as  human.  They  knew 
they  must  not  kill  white  people,  and  they  had  their 
own  code  of  morality  among  themselves;  but  when 
the  Chinese  first  appeared  they  evidently  thought  that 
there  could  not  be  any  special  objection  to  killing 
them,  if  any  reason  arose  for  doing  so.  I  think  the 
hunter  himself  sympathized  somewhat  with  this  view. 
Ammal  objected  strongly  to  leaving  the  neigh 
borhood  of  the  lake.  He  went  the  first  day's  journey 
willingly  enough,  but  after  that  it  was  increasingly 
difficult  to  get  him  along,  and  he  gradually  grew 
sulky.  For  some  time  we  could  not  find  out  the 
reason ;  but  finally  he  gave  us  to  understand  that  he 
was  afraid  because  up  in  the  high  mountains  there 
were  "little  bad  Indians'*  who  would  kill  him  if 
they  caught  him  alone,  especially  at  night.  At  first 
we  thought  he  was  speaking  of  stray  warriors  of 
the  Blackfeet  tribe;  but  it  turned  out  that  he  was 
not  thinking  of  human  beings  at  all,  but  of  hob 
goblins. 


1 72  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

Indeed  the  night  sounds  of  these  great  stretches 
of  mountain  woodlands  were  very  weird  and  strange. 
Though  I  have  often  and  for  long  periods  dwelt 
and  hunted  in  the  wilderness,  yet  I  never  before  so 
well  understood  why  the  people  who  live  in  lonely 
forest  regions  are  prone  to  believe  in  elves,  wood 
spirits  and  other  beings  of  an  unseen  world.  Our 
last  camp,  whereat  we  spent  several  days,  was  pitched 
in  a  deep  valley  nearly  at  the  head  of  the  stream. 
Our  brush  shelter  stood  among  the  tall  coniferous 
trees  that  covered  the  valley  bottom;  but  the  alti 
tude  was  so  great  that  the  forest  extended  only  a 
very  short  distance  up  the  steep  mountain  slopes. 
Beyond,  on  either  hand,  rose  walls  of  gray  rock, 
with  snow  beds  in  their  rifts,  and,  high  above, 
toward  the  snow  peaks,  the  great  white  fields  daz 
zled  the  eyes.  The  torrent  foamed  swiftly  by  but 
a  short  distance  below  the  mossy  level  space  on 
which  we  had  built  our  slight  weather-shield  of  pine 
boughs;  other  streams  poured  into  it,  from  ravines 
through  which  they  leaped  down  the  mountain 
sides. 

After  nightfall,  round  the  camp  fire,  or  if  I  awak 
ened  after  sleeping  a  little  while,  I  would  often  lie 
silently  for  many  minutes  together,  listening  to  the 
noises  in  the  wilderness.  At  times  the  wind  moaned 
harshly  through  the  tops  of  the  tall  pines  and  hem 
locks  ;  at  times  the  branches  were  still ;  but  the  splash 
ing  murmur  of  the  torrent  never  ceased,  and  through 


Hunting   in   the   Selkirks  173 

it  came  other  sounds — the  clatter  of  huge  rocks 
falling  down  the  cliffs,  the  dashing  of  cataracts 
in  far-off  ravines,  the  hooting  of  owls.  Again,  the 
breeze  would  shift,  and  bring  to  my  ears  the  ringing 
of  other  brooks  and  cataracts  and  wind-stirred  for 
ests,  and  perhaps  at  long  intervals  the  cry  of  some 
wild  beast,  the  crash  of  a  falling  tree,  or  the  faint 
rumble  of  a  snow  avalanche.  If  I  listened  long 
enough,  it  would  almost  seem  that  I  heard  thunder 
ous  voices  laughing  and  calling  to  one  another,  and 
as  if  at  any  moment  some  shape  might  stalk  out  of 
the  darkness  into  the  dim  light  of  the  embers. 

Until  within  a  couple  of  days  of  turning  our  faces 
back  toward  the  lake  we  did  not  come  across  any 
caribou  and  saw  but  a  few  old  signs ;  and  we  began 
to  be  fearful  lest  we  should  have  to  return  without 
getting  any,  for  our  shoes  had  been  cut  to  ribbons 
by  the  sharp  rocks,  we  were  almost  out  of  flour, 
and  therefore  had  but  little  to  eat.  However,  our 
perseverance  was  destined  to  be  rewarded. 

The  first  day  after  reaching  our  final  camp,  we 
hunted  across  a  set  of  spurs  and  hollows  but  saw 
nothing  living;  yet  we  came  across  several  bear 
tracks,  and  in  a  deep,  mossy  quagmire,  by  a  spring, 
found  where  a  huge  silver-tip  had  wallowed  only 
the  night  before. 

Next  day  we  started  early,  determined  to  take  a 
long  walk  and  follow  the  main  stream  up  to  its 
head,  or  at  least  above  timber  line.  The  hunter 


174  The  Wilderness   Hunter 

struck  so  brisk  a  pace,  plunging  through  thickets 
and  leaping  from  log  to  log  in  the  slashes  of  fallen 
timber,  and  from  bowlder  to  bowlder  in  crossing 
the  rock-slides,  that  I  could  hardly  keep  up  to  him, 
struggle  as  I  would,  and  we  each  of  us  got  several 
ugly  tumbles,  saving  our  rifles  at  the  expense  of 
scraped  hands  and  bruised  bodies.  We  went  up  one 
side  of  the  stream,  intending  to  come  down  the 
other ;  for  the  forest  belt  was  narrow  enough  to  hunt 
thoroughly.  For  two  or  three  hours  we  toiled 
through  dense  growth,  varied  by  rock-slides,  and 
once  or  twice  by  marshy  tracts,  where  water  oozed 
and  soaked  through  the  mossy  hillsides,  studded 
rather  sparsely  with  evergreens.  In  one  of  these 
places  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  an  animal  which  the 
track  showed  to  be  a  wolverine. 

Then  we  came  to  a  spur  of  open  hemlock  forest; 
and  no  sooner  had  we  entered  it  than  the  hunter 
stopped  and  pointed  exultingly  to  a  well-marked 
game  trail,  in  which  it  was  easy  at  a  glance  to 
discern  the  great  round  footprints  of  our  quarry, 
We  hunted  carefully  over  the  spur  and  found  sev 
eral  trails,  generally  leading  down  along  the  ridge; 
we  also  found  a  number  of  beds,  some  old  and  some 
recent,  usually  placed  where  the  animal  could  keep 
a  lookout  for  any  foe  coming  up  from  the  valley. 
They  were  merely  slight  hollows  or  indentations  in 
the  pine  needles ;  and,  like  the  game  trails,  were 
placed  in  localities  similar  to  those  that  would  be 


Hunting  in   the   Selkirks  175 

chosen  by  blacktail  deer.  The  caribou  droppings 
were  also  very  plentiful;  and  there  were  signs  of 
where  they  had  browsed  on  the  blueberry  bushes, 
cropping  off  the  berries,  and  also  apparently  of 
where  they  had  here  and  there  plucked  a  mouthful 
of  a  peculiar  kind  of  moss,  or  cropped  off  some 
little  mushrooms.  But  the  beasts  themselves  had 
evidently  left  the  hemlock  ridge,  and  we  went  on. 

We  were  much  pleased  at  finding  the  sign  in  open 
timber,  where  the  ground  was  excellent  for  still- 
hunting;  for  in  such  thick  forest  as  we  had  passed 
through,  it  would  have  been  by  mere  luck  only  that 
we  could  have  approached  game. 

After  a  little  while  the  valley  became  so  high 
that  the  large  timber  ceased,  and  there  were  only 
occasional  groves  of  spindling  evergreens.  Beyond 
the  edge  of  the  big  timber  was  a  large  boggy  tract, 
studded  with  little  pools;  and  here  again  we  found 
plenty  of  caribou  tracks.  A  caribou  has  an  enormous 
foot,  bigger  than  a  cow's,  and  admirably  adapted  for 
traveling  over  snow  or  bogs;  hence  they  can  pass 
through  places  where  the  long,  slender  hoofs  of 
moose  or  deer,  or  the  round  hoofs  of  elk,  would  let 
their  owners  sink  at  once;  and  they  are  very  difficult 
to  kill  by  following  on  snowshoes — a  method  much 
in  vogue  among  the  brutal  game  butchers  for  slaugh 
tering  the  more  helpless  animals.  Spreading  out  his 
great  hoofs,  and  bending  his  legs  till  he  walks  al 
most  on  the  joints,  a  caribou  will  travel  swiftly  over 


176  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

a  crust  through  which  a  moose  breaks  at  every 
stride,  or  through  deep  snow  in  which  a  deer  can 
not  flounder  fifty  yards.  Usually  he  trots ;  but  when 
pressed  he  will  spring  awkwardly  along,  leaving 
tracks  in  the  snow  almost  exactly  like  magnified 
imprints  of  those  of  a  great  rabbit,  the  long  marks 
of  the  two  hind  legs  forming  an  angle  with  each 
other,  while  the  forefeet  make  a  large  point  almost 
between. 

The  caribou  had  wandered  all  over  the  bogs  and 
through  the  shallow  pools,  but  evidently  only  at 
night  or  in  the  dusk,  when  feeding  or  in  coming 
to  drink ;  and  again  we  went  on.  Soon  the  timber 
disappeared  almost  entirely,  and  thick  brushwood 
took  its  place ;  we  were  in  a  high,  bare  alpine  valley, 
the  snow  lying  in  drifts  along  the  sides.  In  places 
there  had  been  enormous  rock-slides,  entirely  fill 
ing  up  the  bottom,  so  that  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  at 
a  stretch  the  stream  ran  underground.  In  the  rock 
masses  of  this  alpine  valley  we,  as  usual,  saw  many 
conies  and  hoary  woodchucks. 

The  caribou  trails  had  ceased,  and  it  was  evi 
dent  that  the  beasts  were  not  ahead  of  us  in  the 
barren,  treeless  recesses  between  the  mountains  of 
rock  and  snow;  and  we  turned  back  down  the  val 
ley,  crossing  over  to  the  opposite  or  south  side  of 
the  stream.  We  had  already  eaten  our  scanty  lunch, 
for  it  was  afternoon.  For  several  miles  of  hard 
walking,  through  thicket,  marsh,  and  rock-slide,  we 


Hunting  in   the   Selkirks  177 

saw  no  traces  of  the  game.  Then  we  reached  the 
forest,  which  soon  widened  out,  and  crept  up  the 
mountain  sides;  and  we  came  to  where  another 
stream  entered  the  one  we  were  following.  A  high, 
steep  shoulder  between  the  two  valleys  was  covered 
with  an  open  growth  of  great  hemlock  timber,  and 
in  this  we  again  found  the  trails  and  beds  plentiful. 
There  was  no  breeze,  and  after  beating  through  the 
forest  nearly  to  its  upper  edge,  we  began  to  go  down 
the  ridge,  or  point  of  the  shoulder.  The  compara 
tive  freedom  from  brushwood  made  it  easy  to  walk 
without  noise,  and  we  descended  the  steep  incline 
with  the  utmost  care,  scanning  every  object,  and 
using  every  caution  not  to  slip  on  the  hemlock 
needles,  nor  to  strike  a  stone  or  break  a  stick  with 
our  feet.  The  sign  was  very  fresh,  and  when  still 
half  a  mile  or  so  from  the  bottom  we  at  last  came 
on  three  bull  caribou. 

Instantly  the  hunter  crouched  down,  while  I  ran 
noiselessly  forward  behind  the  shelter  of  a  big  hem 
lock  trunk  until  within  fifty  yards  of  the  grazing 
and  unconscious  quarry.  They  were  feeding  with 
their  heads  up-hill,  but  so  greedily  that  they  had 
not  seen  us;  and  they  were  rather  difficult  to  see 
themselves,  for  their  bodies  harmonized  well  in  color 
with  the  brown  tree  trunks  and  lichen-covered  bowl 
ders.  The  largest,  a  big  bull  with  a  good  but  by 
no  means  extraordinary  head,  was  nearest.  As  he 
stood  fronting  me  with  his  head  down  I  fired  into 


1 78  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

his  neck,  breaking  the  bone,  and  he  turned  a  tre 
mendous  back  somersault.  The  other  two  halted  a 
second  in  stunned  terror;  then  one,  a  yearling, 
rushed  past  us  up  the  valley  down  which  we  had 
come,  while  the  other,  a  large  bull  with  small  ant 
lers,  crossed  right  in  front  of  me,  at  a  canter,  his  neck 
thrust  out,  and  his  head — so  coarse-looking  com 
pared  to  the  delicate  outlines  of  an  elk's- — turned 
toward  me.  His  movements  seemed  clumsy  and 
awkward,  utterly  unlike  those  of  a  deer;  but  he 
handled  his  great  hoofs  cleverly  enough,  arid  broke 
into  a  headlong,  rattling  gallop  as  he  went  down 
the  hillside,  crashing  through  the  saplings  and  leap 
ing  over  the  fallen  logs.  There  was  a  spur  a  little 
beyond,  and  up  this  he  went  at  a  swinging  trot, 
halting  when  he  reached  the  top,  and  turning  to  look 
at  me  once  more.  He  was  only  a  hundred  yards 
away ;  and  though  I  had  not  intended  to  shoot  him 
(for  his  head  was  not  good),  the  temptation  was 
sore;  and  I  was  glad  when,  in  another  second,  the 
stupid  beast  turned  again  and  went  off  up  the  valley 
at  a  slashing  run. 

Then  we  hurried  down  to  examine  with  pride  and 
pleasure  the  dead  bull — his  massive  form,  sleek  coat, 
and  fine  antlers.  It  was  one  of  those  moments  that 
repay  the  hunter  for  days  of  toil  and  hardship;  that 
is  if  he  needs  repayment,  and  does  not  find  life  in 
the  wilderness  pleasure  enough  in  itself. 

It  was  getting  late,  and  if  we  expected  to  reach 


Hunting  in   the   Selkirks  179 

camp  that  night  it  behooved  us  not  to  delay;  so  we 
merely  halted  long  enough  to  dress  the  caribou,  and 
take  a  steak  with  us — which  we  did  not  need,  by  the 
way,  for  almost  immediately  we  came  on  a  band  of 
spruce  grouse  and  knocked  off  the  heads  of  five  with 
our  rifles.  The  caribou's  stomach  was  filled  with 
blueberries,  and  with  their  leaves,  and  with  a  few 
small  mushrooms  also,  and  some  mouthfuls  of  moss. 
We  went  home  very  fast,  too  much  elated  to  heed 
scratches  and  tumbles;  and  just  as  it  was  growing  so 
dark  that  further  traveling  was  impossible  we  came 
opposite  our  camp,  crossed  the  river  on  a  fallen  hem 
lock,  and  walked  up  to  the  moody  Indian,  as  he  sat 
crouched  by  the  fire. 

He  lost  his  sullenness  when  he  heard  what  we  had 
done ;  and  next  day  we  all  went  up  and  skinned  and 
butchered  the  caribou,  returning  to  camp  and  mak 
ing  ready  to  start  back  to  the  lake  the  following 
morning;  and  that  night  we  feasted  royally. 

We  were  off  by  dawn,  the  Indian  joyfully  leading. 
Coming  up  into  the  mountains  he  had  always  been 
the  rear  man  of  the  file;  but  now  he  went  first  and 
struck  a  pace  that,  continued  all  day  long,  gave 
me  a  little  trouble  to  follow.  Each  of  us  carried  his 
pack ;  to  the  Indian's  share  fell  the  caribou  skull  and 
antlers,  which  he  bore  on  his  head.  At  the  end  of 
t'ie  day  he  confessed  to  me  that  it  had  made  his  head 
"heap  sick" — as  well  it  might.  We  had  made  four 
short  days',  or  parts  of  days'  march  coming  up ;  for 


i8o  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

we  had  stopped  to  hunt,  and  moreover  we  knew 
nothing  of  the  country,  being  probably  the  first 
white  men  in  it,  while  none  of  the  Indians  had  ever 
ventured  a  long  distance  from  the  lake.  Returning 
we  knew  how  to  take  the  shortest  route,  we  were 
going  down  hill,  and  we  walked  or  trotted  very  fast ; 
and  so  we  made  the  whole  distance  in  twelve  hours' 
travel.  At  sunset  we  came  out  on  the  last  range  of 
steep  foothills,  overlooking  the  cove  where  we  had 
pitched  our  permanent  camp;  and  from  a  bare  cliff 
shoulder  we  saw  our  boat  on  the  beach,  and  our 
white  tent  among  the  trees,  just  as  we  had  left  them, 
while  the  glassy  mirror  of  the  lake  reflected  the  out 
lines  of  the  mountains  opposite. 

Though  this  was  the  first  caribou  I  had  ever 
killed,  it  was  by  no  means  the  first  I  had  ever  hunted. 
Among  my  earliest  hunting  experiences,  when  a 
lad,  were  two  fruitless  and  toilsome  expeditions 
after  caribou  in  the  Maine  woods.  One  I  made 
in  the  fall,  going  to  the  head  of  the  Munsungin 
River  in  a  pirogue,  with  one  companion.  The  water 
was  low,  and  all  the  way  up  we  had  to  drag  the 
pirogue,  wet  to  our  middleSj  our  ankles  sore  from 
slipping  on  the  round  stones  under  the  rushing 
water,  and  our  muscles  aching  with  fatigue.  When 
we  reached  the  head-waters  we  found  no  caribou 
sign,  and  came  back  without  slaying  anything  larger 
than  an  infrequent  duck  or  grouse. 

The  following  February  I  made  a  trip  on  snow- 


Hunting  in   the   Selkirks  181 

shoes  after  the  same  game,  and  with  the  same  result. 
However,  I  enjoyed  the  trip,  for  the  northland 
woods  are  very  beautiful  and  strange  in  winter,  as 
indeed  they  are  at  all  other  times — and  it  was  my 
first  experience  on  snowshoes.  I  used  the  ordinary 
webbed  racquets,  and  as  the  snow,  though  very 
deep,  was  only  imperfectly  crusted,  I  found  that  for 
a  beginner  the  exercise  was  laborious  in  the  extreme, 
speedily  discovering  that,  no  matter  how  cold  it 
was,  while  walking  through  the  windless  woods  I 
stood  in  no  need  of  warm  clothing.  But  at  night, 
especially  when  lying  out,  the  cold  was  bitter.  Our 
plan  was  to  drive  in  a  sleigh  to  some  logging  camp, 
where  we  were  always  received  with  hearty  hospi 
tality,  and  thence  make  hunting  trips,  in  very  light 
marching  order,  through  the  heart  of  the  surround 
ing  forest.  The  woods,  wrapped  in  their  heavy 
white  mantle,  were  still  and  lifeless.  There  were  a 
few  chickadees  and  woodpeckers ;  now  and  then  we 
saw  flocks  of  red-polls,  pine  linnets,  and  large,  rosy 
grossbeaks ;  and  once  or  twice  I  came  across  a  grouse 
or  white  rabbit,  and  killed  it  for  supper ;  but  this  was 
nearly  all.  Yet,  though  bird  life  was  scarce,  and 
though  we  saw  few  beasts  beyond  an  occasional 
porcupine  or  squirrel,  every  morning  the  snow  was 
dotted  with  a  network  of  trails  made  during  the 
hours  of  darkness ;  the  fine  tracery  of  the  footprints 
of  the  little  red  wood-mouse,  the  marks  which  showed 
the  loping  progress  of  the  sable,  the  V  and  dot  of 


1 82  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

the  rabbit,  the  round  pads  of  the  lucivee,  and  many 
others..  The  snow  reveals,  as  nothing  else  does, 
the  presence  in  the  forest  of  the  many  shy  woodland 
creatures  which  lead  their  lives  abroad  only  after 
nightfall.  Once  we  saw  a  coon,  out  early  after  its 
winter  nap,  and  following  I  shot  it  in  a  hollow  tree. 
Another  time  we  came  on  a  deer  and  the  frightened 
beast  left  its  "yard,"  a  tangle  of  beaten  paths  or 
deep  furrows.  The  poor  animal  made  but  slow 
headway  through  the  powdery  snow;  after  going 
thirty  or  forty  rods  it  sank  exhausted  in  a  deep  drift, 
and  lay  there  in  helpless  panic  as  we  walked  close 
by.  Very  different  were  the  actions  of  the  only 
caribou  we  saw — a  fine  beast  which  had  shed  its  ant 
lers.  I  merely  caught  a  glimpse  of  it  as  it  leaped 
over  a  breastwork  of  down  timbers;  and  we  never 
saw  it  again.  Alternately  trotting  and  making  a  suc 
cession  of  long  jumps,  it  speedily  left  us  far  behind; 
with  its  great  splay-hoofs  it  could  snowshoe  better 
than  we  could.  It  is  among  deer  the  true  denizen 
of  the  regions  of  heavy  snowfall;  far  more  so  than 
the  moose.  Only  under  exceptional  conditions  of 
crust-formation  is  it  in  any  danger  from  a  man  on 
snowshoes. 

In  other  ways  it  is  no  better  able  to  take  care  of 
itself  than  moose  and  deer;  in  fact  I  doubt  whether 
its  senses  are  quite  as  acute,  or  at  least  whether  it  is 
as  wary  and  knowing,  for  under  like  conditions  it 
is  rather  easier  to  still-hunt.  In  the  fall  caribou 


Hunting  in   the   Selkirks  183 

wander  long  distances,  and  are  fond  of  frequenting 
the  wet  barrens  which  break  the  expanse  of  the 
northern  forest  in  tracts  of  ever-increasing  size  as 
the  subarctic  regions  are  neared.  At  this  time  they 
go  in  bands,  each  under  the  control  of  a  master 
bull,  which  wages  repeated  and  furious  battles  for 
his  harem;  and  in  their  ways  of  life  they  resemble 
the  wapiti  more  than  they  do  the  moose  or  deer. 
They  sometimes  display  a  curious  boldness,  the 
bulls  especially  showing  both  stupidity  and  pugnac 
ity  when  in  districts  to  which  men  rarely  penetrate. 
On  our  way  out  of  the  woods,  after  this  hunt, 
there  was  a  slight  warm  spell,  followed  by  rain  and 
then  by  freezing  weather,  so  as  to  bring  about 
what  is  known  as  a  silver  thaw.  Every  twig  was 
sheathed  in  glittering  ice,  and  in  the  moonlight 
the  forest  gleamed  as  if  carved  out  of  frosted 
silver. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE    WAPITI    OR    ROUND-HORNED   ELK 

ONCE,  while  on  another  hunt  with  John  Willis, 
I  spent  a  week  in  a  vain  effort  to  kill  moose 
among  the  outlying  mountains  at  the  southern  end 
of  the  Bitter  Root  range.  Then,  as  we  had  no  meat, 
we  determined  to  try  for  elk,  of  which  we  had  seen 
much  sign. 

We  were  camped  with  a  wagon,  as  high  among 
the  foot-hills  as  wheels  could  go,  but  several  hours' 
walk  from  the  range  of  the  game;  for  it  was  still 
early  in  the  season,  and  they  had  not  yet  come  down 
from  the  upper  slopes.  Accordingly  we  made  a 
practice  of  leaving  the  wagon  for  two  or  three  days 
at  a  time  to  hunt;  returning  to  get  a  night's  rest 
in  the  tent,  preparatory  to  a  fresh  start.  On  these 
trips  we  carried  neither  blankets  nor  packs,  as  the 
walking  was  difficult  and  we  had  much  ground  to 
cover.  Each  merely  put  on  his  jacket  with  a  loaf 
of  frying-pan  bread  and  a  paper  of  salt  stuffed  into 
the  pockets.  We  were  cumbered  with  nothing  save 
our  rifles  and  cartridges. 

On  the  morning  in  question  we  left  camp  at  sun 
rise.  For  two  or  three  hours  we  walked  up-hill 
through  a  rather  open  growth  of  small  pines  and 
(184) 


The  Wapiti  185 

spruces,  the  traveling  being  easy.  Then  we  came 
to  the  edge  of  a  deep  valley,  a  couple  of  miles  across. 
Into  these  we  scrambled,  down  a  steep  slide,  where 
the  forest  had  grown  up  among  the  immense  bowlder 
masses.  The  going  here  was  difficult  to  a  degree; 
the  great  rocks,  dead  timber,  slippery  pine  needles, 
and  loose  gravel  entailing  caution  at  every  step, 
while  we  had  to  guard  our  rifles  carefully  from  the 
consequences  of  a  slip.  It  was  not  much  better  at 
the  bottom,  which  was  covered  by  a  tangled  mass  of 
swampy  forest.  Through  this  we  hunted  carefully, 
but  with  no  success,  in  spite  of  our  toil ;  for  the  only 
tracks  we  saw  that  were  at  all  fresh  were  those  of 
a  cow  and  calf  moose.  Finally,  in  the  afternoon, 
we  left  the  valley  and  began  to  climb  a  steep  gorge, 
down  which  a  mountain  torrent  roared  and  foamed 
in  a  succession  of  cataracts. 

Three  hours'  hard  climbing  brought  us  to  another 
valley,  but  of  an  entirely  different  character.  It 
was  several  miles  long,  but  less  than  a  mile  broad. 
Save  at  the  mouth,  it  was  walled  in  completely  by 
chains  of  high  rock-peaks,  their  summits  snow 
capped;  the  forest  extended  a  short  distance  up 
their  sides.  The  bottom  of  the  valley  was  in  places 
covered  by  open  woodland,  elsewhere  by  marshy 
meadows,  dotted  with  dense  groves  of  spruce. 

Hardly  had  we  entered  this  valley  before  we 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  yearling  elk  walking  rapidly 
along  a  game  path  some  distance  ahead.  We  fol- 


1 86  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

lowed  as  quickly  as  we  could  without  making  a 
noise,  but  after  the  first  glimpse  never  saw  it  again ; 
for  it  is  astonishing  how  fast  an  elk  travels,  with 
its  ground-covering  walk.  We  went  up  the  valley 
until  we  were  well  past  its  middle,  and  saw  abun 
dance  of  fresh  elk  signs.  Evidently  two  or  three 
bands  had  made  the  neighborhood  their  headquar 
ters.  Among  them  were  some  large  bulls,  which 
had  been  trying  their  horns  not  only  on  the  quaking- 
asp  and  willow  saplings,  but  also  on  one  another, 
though  the  rut  had  barely  begun.  By  one  pool 
they  had  scooped  out  a  kind  of  a  wallow  or  bare 
spot  in  the  grass,  and  had  torn  and  tramped  the 
ground  with  their  hoofs.  The  place  smelt  strongly 
of  their  urine. 

By  the  time  the  sun  set  we  were  sure  the  elk 
were  toward  the  head  of  the  valley.  We  utilized 
the  short  twilight  in  arranging  our  sleeping  place 
for  the  night,  choosing  a  thick  grove  of  spruce  be 
side  a  small  mountain  tarn,  at  the  foot  of  a  great 
cliff.  We  were  chiefly  influenced  in  our  choice  by 
the  abundance  of  dead  timber  of  a  size  easy  to 
handle;  the  fuel  question  being  all-important  on 
such  a  trip,  where  one  has  to  lie  out  without  bed 
ding,  and  to  keep  up  a  fire,  with  no  axe  to  cut  wood. 

Having  selected  a  smooth  spot,  where  some  low- 
growing  firs  made  a  wind  break,  we  dragged  up 
enough  logs  to  feed  the  fire  throughout  the  night. 
Then  we  drank  our  fill  at  the  icy  pool,  and  ate  a 


The  Wapiti  187 

few  mouthfuls  of  bread.  While  it  was  still  light 
we  heard  the  querulous  bleat  of  the  conies,  from 
among  the  slide  rocks  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain; 
and  the  chipmunks  and  chickarees  scolded  at  us. 
As  dark  came  on,  and  we  sat  silently  gazing  into 
the  flickering  blaze,  the  owls  began  muttering  and 
hooting. 

Clearing  the  ground  of  stones  and  sticks,  we  lay 
down  beside  the  fire,  pulled  our  soft  felt  hats  over  our 
ears,  buttoned  our  jackets,  and  went  to  sleep.  Of 
course  our  slumbers  were  fitful  and  broken,  for 
every  hour  or  two  the  fire  got  low  and  had  to  be 
replenished.  We  wakened  shivering  out  of  each 
spell  of  restless  sleep  to  find  the  logs  smouldering; 
we  were  alternately  scorched  and  frozen.  , 

As  the  first  faint  streak  of  dawn  appeared  in  the 
dark  sky  my  companion  touched  me  lightly  on  the 
arm.  The  fire  was  nearly  out;  we  felt  numbed  by 
the  chill  air.  At  once  we  sprang  up,  stretched  our 
arms,  shook  ourselves,  examined  our  rifles,  swal 
lowed  a  mouthful  or  two  of  bread,  and  walked  off 
through  the  gloomy  forest. 

At  first  we  could  scarcely  see  our  way,  but  it  grew 
rapidly  lighter.  The  gray  mist  rose  and  wavered 
over  the  pools  and  wet  places;  the  morning  voices 
of  the  wilderness  began  to  break  the  death-like  still 
ness.  After  we  had  walked  a  couple  of  miles  the 
mountain  tops  on  our  right  hand  reddened  in  the 
sun  rays. 


1 88  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

Then,  as  we  trod  noiselessly  over  the  dense  moss, 
and  on  the  pine  needles  under  the  scattered  trees, 
we  heard  a  sharp  clang  and  clatter  up  the  valley 
ahead  of  us.  We  knew  this  meant  game  of  some 
sort;  and  stealing  lightly  and  cautiously  forward 
we  soon  saw  before  us  the  cause  of  the  noise. 

In  a  little  glade,  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  yards 
from  us,  two  bull  elk  were  engaged  in  deadly  com 
bat,  while  two  others  were  looking  on.  It  was  a 
splendid  sight.  The  great  beasts  faced  each  other 
with  lowered  horns,  the  manes  that  covered  their 
thick  necks  and  the  hair  on  their  shoulders  bristling 
and  erect.  Then  they  charged  furiously,  the  crash  of 
the  meeting  antlers  resounding  through  the  valley. 
The  shock  threw  them  both  on  their  haunches ;  with 
locked  horns  and  glaring  eyes  they  strove  against 
each  other,  getting  their  hind  legs  well  under  them, 
straining  every  muscle  in  their  huge  bodies,  and 
squealing  savagely.  They  were  evenly  matched 
in  weight,  strength  and  courage;  and  push  as  they 
might,  neither  got  the  upper  hand,  first  one  yielding 
a  few  inches,  then  the  other,  while  they  swayed  to 
and  fro  in  their  struggles,  smashing  the  bushes  and 
plowing  up  the  soil. 

Finally  they  separated  and  stood  some  little  dis 
tance  apart,  under  the  great  pines ;  their  sides  heav 
ing,  and  columns  of  steam  rising  from  their  nos 
trils  through  the  frosty  air  of  the  brightening  morn 
ing.  Again  they  rushed  together  with  a  crash,  and 


The  Wapiti  189 

each  strove  mightily  to  overthrow  the  other,  or  get 
past  his  guard;  but  the  branching  antlers  caught 
every  vicious  lunge  and  thrust.  This  set-to  was 
stopped  rather  curiously.  One  of  the  onlooking  elk 
was  a  yearling ;  the  other,  though  scarcely  as  heavy- 
bodied  as  either  of  the  fighters,  had  a  finer  head. 
He  was  evidently  much  excited  by  the  battle,  and 
he  now  began  to  walk  toward  the  two  comba 
tants,  nodding  his  head  and  uttering  a  queer,  whist 
ling  noise.  They  dared  not  leave  their  flanks  un 
covered  to  his  assault;  and  as  he  approached  they 
promptly  separated,  and  walked  off  side  by  side  a 
few  yards  apart.  In  a  moment,  however,  one  spun 
round  and  jumped  at  his  old  adversary,  seeking 
to  stab  him  in  his  unprotected  flank;  but  the  latter 
was  just  as  quick,  and  as  before  caught  the  rush 
on  his  horns.  They  closed  as  furiously  as  ever; 
but  the  utmost  either  could  do  was  to  inflict  one 
or  two  punches  on  the  neck  and  shoulders  of  his 
foe,  where  the  thick  hide  served  as  a  shield.  Again 
the  peacemaker  approached,  nodding  his  head,  whist 
ling,  and  threatening;  and  again  they  separated. 

This  was  repeated  once  or  twice;  and  I  began 
to  be  afraid  lest  the  breeze,  which  was  very  light 
and  puffy,  should  shift  and  give  them  my  wind. 
So,  resting  my  rifle  on  my  knee  I  fired  twice,  put 
ting  one  bullet  behind  the  shoulder  of  the  peace 
maker,  and  the  other  behind  the  shoulder  of  one 
of  the  combatants.  Both  were  deadly  shots,  but,  as 


190  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

so  often  with  wapiti,  neither  of  the  wounded  ani 
mals  at  the  moment  showed  any  signs  of  being  hit. 
The  yearling  ran  off  unscathed.  The  other  three 
crowded  together  and  trotted  behind  some  spruce 
on  the  left,  while  we  ran  forward  for  another  shot. 
In  a  moment  one  fell ;  whereupon  the  remaining  two 
turned  and  came  back  across  the  glade,  trotting  to 
the  right.  As  we  opened  fire  they  broke  into  a  lum 
bering  gallop,  but  were  both  downed  before  they  got 
out  of  sight  in  the  timber. 

As  soon  as  the  three  bulls  were  down  we  busied 
ourselves  taking  off  their  heads  and  hides,  and  cut 
ting  off  the  best  portions  of  the  meat — from  the 
saddles  and  hams — to  take  back  to  camp,  where  we 
smoked  it.  But  first  we  had  breakfast.  We  kindled  a 
fire  beside  a  little  spring  of  clear  water  and  raked  out 
the  coals.  Then  we  cut  two  willow  twigs  as  spits, 
ran  on  each  a  number  of  small  pieces  of  elk  loin,  and 
roasted  them  over  the  fire.  We  had  salt;  we  were 
very  hungry;  and  I  never  ate  anything  that  tasted 
better. 

The  wapiti  is,  next  to  the  moose,  the  most  quar 
relsome  and  pugnacious  of  American  deer.  It  can 
not  be  said  that  it  is  ordinarily  a  dangerous  beast 
to  hunt;  yet  there  are  instances  in  which  wounded 
wapiti,  incautiously  approached  to  within  striking 
distance,  have  severely  misused  their  assailants,  both 
with  their  antlers  and  their  forefeet.  I  myself  knew 
one  man  who  had  been  badly  mauled  in  this  fashion. 


The  Wapiti  191 

When  tamed  the  bulls  are  dangerous  to  human  life 
in  the  rutting  season.  In  a  grapple  they  are  of 
course  infinitely  more  to  be  dreaded  than  ordinary 
deer,  because  of  their  great  strength. 

However,  the  fiercest  wapiti  bull,  when  in  a  wild 
state,  flees  the  neighborhood  of  man  with  the  same 
panic  terror  shown  by  the  cows;  and  he  makes  no 
stand  against  a  grisly,  though  when  his  horns  are 
grown  he  has  little  fear  of  either  wolf  or  cougar  if 
on  his  guard  and  attacked  fairly.  The  chief  battles 
of  the  bulls  are  of  course  waged  with  one  another. 
Before  the  beginning  of  the  rut  they  keep  by  them 
selves:  singly,  while  the  sprouting  horns  are  still 
very  young,  at  which  time  they  lie  in  secluded  spots 
and  move  about  as  little  as  possible;  in  large  bands, 
later  in  the  season.  At  the  beginning  of  the  fall 
these  bands  join  with  one  another  and  with  the 
bands  of  cows  and  calves,  which  have  likewise  been 
keeping  to  themselves  during  the  late  winter,  the 
spring,  and  the  summer.  Vast  herds  are  thus  some 
times  formed,  containing,  in  the  old  days  when 
wapiti  were  plenty,  thousands  of  head.  The  bulls 
now  begin  to  fight  furiously  with  one  another,  and 
the  great  herd  becomes  split  into  smaller  ones. 
Each  of  these  has  one  master  bull,  who  has  won  his 
position  by  savage  battle,  and  keeps  it  by  overcom 
ing  every  rival,  whether  a  solitary  bull,  or  the  lord 
of  another  harem,  who  challenges  him.  When  not 
fighting  or  love-making  he  is  kept  on  the  run,  chas- 


The  Wilderness  Hunter 


ing  away  the  young  bulls  who  venture  to  pay  court 
to  the  cows.  He  has  hardly  time  to  eat  or  sleep, 
and  soon  becomes  gaunt  and  worn  to  a  degree.  At 
the  close  of  the  rut  many  of  the  bulls  become  so 
emaciated  that  they  retire  to  some  secluded  spot  to 
recuperate.  They  are  so  weak  that  they  readily  suc 
cumb  to  the  elements,  or  to  their  brute  foes;  many 
die  from  sheer  exhaustion. 

The  battles  between  the  bulls  rarely  result  fatally, 
After  a  longer  or  shorter  period  of  charging,  push 
ing,  and  struggling  the  heavier  or  more  enduring 
of  the  two  begins  to  shove  his  weaker  antagonist 
back  and  round;  and  the  latter  then  watches  his 
chance  and  bolts,  hotly,  but  as  a  rule  harmlessly, 
pursued  for  a  few  hundred  yards.  The  massive 
branching  antlers  serve  as  effective  guards  against 
the  most  wicked  thrusts.  While  the  antagonists  are 
head  on,  the  worst  that  can  happen  is  a  punch  on 
the  shoulder  which  will  not  break  the  thick  hide, 
though  it  may  bruise  the  flesh  underneath.  It  is 
only  when  a  beast  is  caught  while  turning  that  there 
is  a  chance  to  deliver  a  possibly  deadly  stab  in  the 
flank,  with  the  brow  prongs,  the  "dog-killers"  as 
they  are  called  in  bucks.  Sometimes,  but  rarely, 
fighting  wapiti  get  their  antlers  interlocked  and 
perish  miserably;  my  own  ranch,  the  Elkhorn,  was 
named  from  finding  on  the  spot  where  the  ranch 
house  now  stands  two  splendid  pairs  of  elk  antlers 
thus  interlocked. 


The  Wapiti  193 

Wapiti  keep  their  antlers  until  the  spring,  whereas 
deer  and  moose  lose  theirs  by  midwinter.  The  bull's 
behavior  in  relation  to  the  cow  is  merely  that  of  a 
vicious  and  brutal  coward.  He  bullies  her  continu 
ally,  and  in  times  of  danger  his  one  thought  is  for 
sneaking  off  to  secure  his  own  safety.  For  all  his 
noble  looks  he  is  a  very  unamiable  beast,  who  be 
haves  with  brutal  ferocity  to  the  weak,  and  shows 
abject  terror  of  the  strong.  According  to  his  powers, 
he  is  guilty  of  rape,  robbery,  and  even  murder.  I 
never  felt  the  least  compunction  at  shooting  a  bull, 
but  I  hate  to  shoot  a  cow,  even  when  forced  by  ne 
cessity.  Maternity  must  always  appeal  to  any  one. 
A  cow  has  more  courage  than  a  bull.  She  will 
fight  valiantly  for  her  young  calf,  striking  such  blows 
with  her  forefeet  that  most  beasts  of  prey  at  once 
slink  away  from  the  combat.  Cougars  and  wolves 
commit  great  ravages  among  the  bands;  but  they 
often  secure  their  quarry  only  at  the  cost  of  sharp 
preliminary  tussles — and  in  tussles  of  this  kind  they 
do  not  always  prove  victors  or  escape  scathless. 

During  the  rut  the  bulls  are  very  noisy;  and 
their  notes  of  amorous  challenge  are  called  "whist 
ling"  by  the  frontiersmen, — very  inappropriately. 
They  begin  to  whistle  about  ten  days  before  they 
begin  to  run ;  and  they  have  in  addition  an  odd  kind 
of  bark,  which  is  only  heard  occasionally.  The 
whistling  is  a  most  curious,  and  to  me  a  most  at 
tractive  sound,  when  heard  in  the  great  lonely  moun- 

9  VOL.  II. 


194  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

tains.  As  with  so  many  other  things,  much  depends 
upon  the  surroundings.  When  listened  to  nearby 
and  under  unfavorable  circumstances,  the  sound  re 
sembles  a  succession  of  hoarse  whistling  roars,  end 
ing  with  two  or  three  gasping  grunts. 

But  heard  at  a  little  distance,  and  in  its  proper 
place,  the  call  of  the  wapiti  is  one  of  the  grandest 
and  most  beautiful  sounds  in  nature.  Especially  is 
this  the  case  when  several  rivals  are  answering  one 
another,  on  some  frosty  moonlight  night  in  the 
mountains.  The  wild  melody  rings  from  chasm  to 
chasm  under  the  giant  pines,  sustained  and  modu 
lated,  through  bar  after  bar,  filled  with  challenge 
and  proud  anger.  It  thrills  the  soul  of  the  listening 
hunter. 

Once,  while  in  the  mountains,  I  listened  to  a  pe 
culiarly  grand  chorus  of  this  kind.  We  were  trav 
eling  with  pack  ponies  at  the  time,  and  our  tent  was 
pitched  in  a  grove  of  yellow  pine,  by  a  brook  in  the 
bottom  of  a  valley.  On  either  hand  rose  the  moun 
tains,  covered  with  spruce  forest.  It  was  in  Sep 
tember,  and  the  first  snow  had  just  fallen. 

The  day  before  we  had  walked  long  and  hard; 
and  during  the  night  I  slept  the  heavy  sleep  of  the 
weary.  Early  in  the  morning,  just  as  the  east  be 
gan  to  grow  gray,  I  waked;  and  as  I  did  so,  the 
sounds  that  smote  on  my  ear  caused  me  to  sit  up  and 
throw  off  the  warm  blankets.  Bull  elk  were  chal 
lenging  among  the  mountains  on  both  sides  of  the 


The  Wapiti  195 

valley,  a  little  way  from  us,  their  notes  echoing  like 
the  calling  of  silver  bugles.  Groping  about  in  the 
dark,  I  drew  on  my  trousers,  an  extra  pair  of  thick 
socks,  and  my  moccasins,  donned  a  warm  jacket, 
found  my  fur  cap  and  gloves,  and  stole  out  of  the 
tent  with  my  rifle. 

The  air  was  very  cold;  the  stars  were  beginning 
to  pale  in  the  dawn;  on  the  ground  the  snow  glim 
mered  white,  and  lay  in  feathery  masses  on  the 
branches  of  the  balsams  and  young  pines.  The  air 
rang  with  the  challenges  of  many  wapiti;  their  in 
cessant  calling  came  pealing  down  through  the  still, 
snow-laden  woods.  First  one  bull  challenged ;  then 
another  answered ;  then  another  and  another.  Two 
herds  were  approaching  one  another  from  opposite 
sides  of  the  valley,  a  short  distance  above  our  camp ; 
and  the  master  bulls  were  roaring  defiance  as  they 
mustered  their  harems. 

I  walked  stealthily  up  the  valley,  until  I  felt  that 
I  was  nearly  between  the  two  herds ;  and  then  stood 
motionless  under  a  tall  pine.  The  ground  was  quite 
open  at  this  point,  the  pines,  though  large,  being  scat 
tered  ;  the  little  brook  ran  with  a  strangled  murmur 
between  its  rows  of  willows  and  alders,  for  the  ice 
along  its  edges  nearly  skimmed  its  breadth.  The 
stars  paled  rapidly,  the  gray  dawn  brightened,  and 
in  the  sky  overhead  faint  rose-colored  streaks  were 
turning  blood-red.  What  little  wind  there  was 
breathed  in  my  face  and  kept  me  from  discovery. 


196  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

I  made  up  my  mind,  from  the  sound  of  the  chal 
lenging,  now  very  near  me,  that  one  bull  on  my 
right  was  advancing  toward  a  rival  on  my  left,  who 
was  answering  every  call.  Soon  the  former  ap 
proached  so  near  that  I  could  hear  him  crack  the 
branches,  and  beat  the  bushes  with  his  horns;  and 
I  slipped  quietly  from  tree  to  tree,  so  as  to  meet  him 
when  he  came  out  into  the  more  open  woodland. 
Day  broke,  and  crimson  gleams  played  across  the 
snow-clad  mountains  beyond. 

At  last,  just  as  the  sun  flamed  red  above  the  hill 
tops,  I  heard  the  roar  of  the  wapiti's  challenge  not 
fifty  yards  away;  and  I  cocked  and  half  raised  my 
rifle,  and  stood  motionless.  In  a  moment  more,  the 
belt  of  spruces  in  front  of  me  swayed  and  opened, 
and  the  lordly  bull  stepped  out.  He  bore  his  mas 
sive  antlers  aloft;  the  snow  lay  thick  on  his  mane; 
he  snuffed  the  air  and  stamped  on  the  ground  as  he 
walked.  As  I  drew  a  bead,  the  motion  caught  his 
eye;  and  instantly  his  bearing  of  haughty  and  war 
like  self-confidence  changed  to  one  of  alarm.  My 
bullet  smote  through  his  shoulder-blades,  and  he 
plunged  wildly  forward,  and  fell  full  length  on  the 
blood-stained  snow. 

Nothing  can  be  finer  than  a  wapiti  bull's  carriage 
when  excited  or  alarmed ;  he  then  seems  the  embodi 
ment  of  strength  and  stately  grace.  But  at  ordinary 
times  his  looks  are  less  attractive,  as  he  walks  with 
his  neck  level  with  his  body  and  his  head  out- 


The   Wapiti  197 

stretched,  his  horns  lying  almost  on  his  shoulders. 
The  favorite  gait  of  the  wapiti  is  the  trot,  which  is 
very  fast,  and  which  they  can  keep  up  for  countless 
miles;  when  suddenly  and  greatly  alarmed,  they 
break  into  an  awkward  gallop,  which  is  faster,  but 
which  speedily  tires  them. 

I  have  occasionally  killed  elk  in  the  neighborhood 
of  my  ranch  on  the  Little  Missouri.  They  were 
very  plentiful  along  this  river  until  1881,  but  the 
last  of  the  big  bands  were  slaughtered  or  scattered 
about  that  time.  Smaller  bunches  were  found  for 
two  or  three  years  longer,  and  to  this  day,  scattered 
individuals,  singly  or  in  parties  of  two  or  three,  lin 
ger  here  and  there  in  the  most  remote  and  inacces 
sible  parts  of  the  broken  country.  In  the  old  times 
they  were  often  found  on  the  open  prairie,  and  were 
fond  of  sunning  themselves  on  the  sand  bars  by  the 
river,  even  at  midday,  while  they  often  fed  by  day 
light  (as  they  do  still  in  remote  mountain  fast 
nesses).  Nowadays  the  few  survivors  dwell  in  the 
timber  of  the  roughest  ravines,  and  only  venture 
abroad  at  dusk  or  even  after  nightfall.  Thanks 
to  their  wariness  and  secluseness,  their  presence  is 
often  not  even  suspected  by  the  cowboys  or  others 
who  occasionally  ride  through  their  haunts;  and  so 
the  hunters  only  know  vaguely  of  their  existence. 
It  thus  happens  that  the  last  individuals  of  a  species 
may  linger  in  a  locality  for  many  years  after  the 
rest  of  their  kind  have  vanished ;  on  the  Little  Mis- 


198  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

souri  to-day  every  elk  (as  in  the  Rockies  every  buf 
falo)  killed  is  at  once  set  down  as  "the  last  of  its 
race."  For  several  years  in  succession  I  myself 
kept  killing  one  or  two  such  "last  survivors/' 

A  yearling  bull  which  I  thus  obtained  was  killed 
while  in  company  with  my  stanch  friend  Will  Dow, 
on  one  of  the  first  trips  which  I  took  with  that  prince 
of  drivers,  old  man  Tompkins.  We  were  laying  in 
our  stock  of  winter  meat;  and  had  taken  the  wagon 
to  go  to  a  knot  of  high  and  very  rugged  hills  where 
we  knew  there  were  deer,  and  thought  there  might 
be  elk.  Old  Tompkins  drove  the  wagon  with  un 
moved  composure  up,  down,  and  across  frightful- 
looking  hills,  and  when  they  became  wholly  impass 
able,  steered  the  team  over  a  cut  bank  and  up  a  kind 
of  winding  ravine  or  wooded  washout,  until  it  be 
came  too  rough  and  narrow  for  further  progress. 
There  was  good  grass  for  the  horses  on  a  hill  off 
to  one  side  of  us;  and  stunted  cottonwood  trees 
grew  between  the  straight  white  walls  of  clay  and 
sandstone  which  hemmed  in  the  washout.  We 
pitched  our  tent  by  a  little  trickling  spring  and 
kindled  a  great  fire,  the  fitful  glare  lighting  the  bare 
cliffs  and  the  queer,  sprawling  tops  of  the  cotton- 
woods;  and  after  a  dinner  of  fried  prairie-chicken 
went  to  bed.  At  dawn  we  were  off,  and  hunted  till 
nearly  noon;  when  Dow,  who  had  been  walking  to 
one  side,  beckoned  to  me  and  remarked,  "There's 
something  mighty  big  in  the  timber  down  under 


The  Wapiti  199 

the  cliff;  I  guess  it's  an  elk"  (he  never  had  seen  one 
before) ;  and  the  next  moment,  as  old  Tompkins  ex 
pressed  it,  "the  elk  came  bilin'  out  of  the  coulie." 
Old  Tompkins  had  a  rifle  on  this  occasion  and  the 
sight  of  game  always  drove  him  crazy;  as  I  aimed 
I  heard  Dow  telling  him  "to  let  the  boss  do  the 
shooting";  and  I  killed  the  elk  to  a  savage  inter- 
jectional  accompaniment  of  threats  delivered  at  old 
man  Tompkins  between  the  shots. 

Elk  are  sooner  killed  off  than  any  other  game 
save  buffalo,  but  this  is  due  to  their  size  and  the 
nature  of  the  ground  they  frequent  rather  than  to 
their  lack  of  shyness.  They  like  open  woodland,  or 
mountainous  park  country,  or  hills  riven  by  timber 
coulies;  and  such  ground  is  the  most  favorable  to 
the  hunter,  and  the  most  attractive  in  which  to 
hunt.  On  the  other  hand  moose,  for  instance,  live 
in  such  dense  cover  that  it  is  very  difficult  to  get 
at  them;  when  elk  are  driven  by  incessant  persecu 
tion  to  take  refuge  in  similar  fastnesses  they  become 
almost  as  hard  to  kill.  In  fact,  in  this  respect  the 
elk  stands  to  the  moose  much  as  the  blacktail  stands 
to  the  whitetail.  The  moose  and  whitetail  are  some 
what  warier  than  the  elk  and  blacktail ;  but  it  is  the 
nature  of  the  ground  which  they  inhabit  that  tells 
most  in  their  favor.  On  the  other  hand,  as  compared 
to  the  blacktail,  it  is  only  the  elk's  size  which  puts 
it  at  a  disadvantage  in  the  struggle  for  life  when  the 
rifle-bearing  hunter  appears  on  the  scene.  It  is 


200  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

quite  as  shy  and  difficult  to  approach  as  the  deer; 
but  its  bulk  renders  it  much  more  eagerly  hunted, 
more  readily  seen,  and  more  easily  hit.  Occasional 
ly  elk  suffer  from  fits  of  stupid  tameness  or  equally 
stupid  panic;  but  the  same  is  true  of  blacktail.  In 
two  or  three  instances,  I  have  seen  elk  show  silly 
ignorance  of  danger;  but  half  a  dozen  times  I  have 
known  blacktail  behave  with  an  even  greater  degree 
of  stupid  familiarity. 

There  is  another  point  in  which  the  wapiti  and 
blacktail  agree  in  contrast  to  the  moose  and  white- 
tail.  Both  the  latter  delight  in  water-lilies,  entering 
the  ponds  to  find  them,  and  feeding  on  them  greedily. 
The  wapiti  is  very  fond  of  wallowing  in  the  mud, 
and  of  bathing  in  pools  and  lakes;  but  as  a  rule 
it  shows  as  little  fondness  as  the  blacktail  for  feed 
ing  on  water-lilies  or  other  aquatic  plants. 

In  reading  of  the  European  red  deer,  which  is 
nothing  but  a  diminutive  wapiti,  we  often  see  "a 
stag  of  ten"  alluded  to  as  if  a  full-grown  monarch. 
A  full-grown  wapiti  bull,  however,  always  has 
twelve,  and  may  have  fourteen,  regular  normal 
points  on  his  antlers,  besides  irregular  additional 
prongs ;  and  he  occasionally  has  ten  points  when  a 
two-year-old,  as  I  have  myself  seen  with  calves  cap 
tured  young  and  tamed.  The  calf  has  no  horns. 
The  yearling  carries  two  foot-long  spikes,  some 
times  bifurcated,  so  as  to  make  four  points.  The 
two-year-old  often  has  six  or  eight  points  on  his 


The  Wapiti  201 

antlers;  but  sometimes  ten,  although  they  are  al 
ways  small.  The  three-year-old  has  eight  or  ten 
points,  while  his  body  may  be  nearly  as  large  as 
that  of  a  full-grown  animal.  The  four-year-old  is 
normally  a  ten  or  twelve  pointer,  but  as  yet  with 
much  smaller  antlers  than  those  so  proudly  borne 
by  the  old  bulls. 

Frontiersmen  only  occasionally  distinguish  the 
prongs  by  name.  The  brow  and  bay  points  are 
called  dog-killers  or  war-tines;  the  tray  is  known 
simply  as  the  third  point ;  and  the  most  characteris 
tic  prong,  the  long  and  massive  fourth,  is  now  and 
then  called  the  dagger-point ;  the  others  being  known 
as  the  fifth  and  sixth. 

In  the  high  mountain  forest  into  which  the  wapiti 
has  been  driven,  the  large,  heavily  furred  northern 
lynx,  the  lucivee,  takes  the  place  of  the  smaller, 
thinner-haired  lynx  of  the  plains,  and  of  the  more 
southern  districts,  the  bobcat  or  wildcat.  On  the 
Little  Missouri  the  latter  is  the  common  form;  yet 
I  have  seen  a  lucivee  which  was  killed  there.  On 
Clark's  Fork  of  the  Columbia  both  occur,  the  luci 
vee  being  the  most  common.  They  feed  chiefly  on 
hares,  squirrels,  grouse,  fawns,  etc. ;  and  the  lucivee, 
at  least,  also  occasionally  kills  foxes  and  coons,  and 
has  in  its  turn  to  dread  the  pounce  of  the  big  timber 
wolf.  Both  kinds  of  lynx  can  most  easily  be  killed 
with  dogs,  as  they  tree  quite  readily  when  thus  pur 
sued.  The  wildcat  is  often  followed  on  horseback, 


202  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

with  a  pack  of  hounds,  when  the  country  is  favor 
able;  and  when  chased  in  this  fashion  yields  excel 
lent  sport.  The  skin  of  both  these  lynxes  is  tender. 
They  often  maul  an  inexperienced  pack  quite  badly, 
inflicting  severe  scratches  and  bites  on  any  hound 
which  has  just  resolution  enough  to  come  to  close 
quarters,  but  not  to  rush  in  furiously;  but  a  big 
fighting  dog  will  readily  kill  either.  At  Thomp 
son's  Falls  two  of  Willis'  hounds  killed  a  lucivee  un 
aided,  though  one  got  torn.  Archibald  Rogers'  dog 
Sly,  a  cross  between  a  greyhound  and  a  bull  mastiff, 
killed  a  bobcat  single-handed.  He  bayed  the  cat 
and  then  began  to  threaten  it,  leaping  from  side  to 
side;  suddenly  he  broke  the  motion,  and  rushing 
in  got  his  foe  by  the  small  of  the  back  and  killed  it 
without  receiving  a  scratch. 

The  porcupine  is  sure  to  attract  the  notice  of  any 
one  going  through  the  mountains.  It  is  also  found 
in  the  timber  belts  fringing  the  streams  of  the  great 
plains,  where  it  lives  for  a  week  at  a  time  in  a  single 
tree  or  clump  of  trees,  peeling  the  bark  from  the 
limbs.  But  it  is  the  easiest  of  all  animals  to  exter 
minate,  and  is  now  abundant  only  in  deep  moun 
tain  forests.  It  is  very  tame  and  stupid ;  it  goes  on 
the  ground;  but  its  fastest  pace  is  a  clumsy  waddle, 
and  on  trees,  but  is  the  poorest  of  tree-climbers, — 
grasping  the  trunk  like  a  small,  slow  bear.  It  can 
neither  escape  nor  hide.  It  trusts  to  its  quills  for 
protection,  as  the  skunk  does  to  its  odor;  but  it  is 


The  Wapiti  203 

far  less  astute  and  more  helpless  than  the  skunk.  It 
is  readily  made  into  a  very  unsuspicious  and  famil 
iar,  but  uninteresting,  pet.  I  have  known  it  come 
into  camp  in  the  daytime,  and  forage  round  the  fire 
by  which  I  was  sitting.  Its  coat  protects  it  against 
most  foes.  Bears  sometimes  eat  it  when  very  hun 
gry,  as  they  will  eat  anything;  and  I  think  that  elk 
occasionally  destroy  it  in  sheer  wantonness.  One 
of  its  most  resolute  foes  is  the  fisher,  that  big  sable 
— almost  a  wolverine — which  preys  on  everything, 
from  a  coon  to  a  fawn,  or  even  a  small  fox. 

The  noisy,  active  little  chickarees  and  chipmunks, 
however,  are  by  far  the  most  numerous  and  lively 
denizens  of  these  deep  forests.  They  are  very  abun 
dant  and  very  noisy;  scolding  the  travelers  exactly 
as  they  do  the  bears  when  the  latter  dig  up  the  caches 
of  ants.  The  chipmunks  soon  grow  tame  and  visit 
camp  to  pick  up  the  crusts.  The  chickarees  often 
ascend  to  the  highest  pine  tops,  where  they  cut  off 
the  cones,  dropping  them  to  the  ground  with  a  noise 
which  often  for  a  moment  puzzles  the  still-hunter. 

Two  of  the  most  striking  and  characteristic  birds 
to  be  seen  by  him  who  hunts  and  camps  among  the 
pine-clad  and  spruce-clad  slopes  of  the  northern 
Rockies  are  a  small  crow  and  a  rather  large  wood 
pecker.  The  former  is  called  Clark's  crow,  and 
the  latter  Lewis'  woodpecker.  Their  names  com 
memorate  their  discoverers,  the  explorers  Lewis  and 
Clark,  the  first  white  men  who  crossed  the  United 


204  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

States  to  the  Pacific,  the  pioneers  of  that  great  army 
of  adventurers  who  since  then  have  roamed  and 
hunted  over  the  Great  Plains  and  among  the  Rocky 
Mountains. 

These  birds  are  nearly  of  a  size,  being  about  as 
large  as  a  flicker.  The  Clark's  crow,  an  ash-col 
ored  bird  with  black  wings  and  white  tail  and  fore 
head,  is  as  common  as  it  is  characteristic,  and  is  sure 
to  attract  attention.  I c  is  as  knowing  as  the  rest  of 
its  race,  and  very  noisy  and  active.  It  flies  some 
times  in  a  straight  line,  with  regular  wing-beats, 
sometimes  in  a  succession  of  loops  like  a  wood 
pecker,  and  often  lights  on  rough  bark  or  a  dead 
stump  in  an  attitude  like  the  latter;  and  it  is  very 
fond  of  scrambling  and  clinging,  often  head  down 
ward,  among  the  outermost  cones  on  the  top  of  a 
pine,  chattering  loudly  all  the  while.  One  of  the 
noticeable  features  of  its  flight  is  the  hollow,  beat 
ing  sound  of  the  wings.  It  is  restless  and  fond  of 
company,  going  by  preference  in  small  parties. 
These  little  parties  often  indulge  in  regular  plays, 
assembling  in  some  tall  tree-top  and  sailing  round 
and  round  it,  in  noisy  pursuit  of  one  another,  light 
ing  continually  among  the  branches. 

The  Lewis'  woodpecker,  a  handsome,  dark-green 
bird,  with  white  breast  and  red  belly,  is  much  rarer, 
quite  as  shy,  and  generally  less  noisy  and  conspicu 
ous.  Its  flight  is  usually  strong  and  steady,  like  a 
jay's,  and  it  perches  upright  among  the  twigs,  or 


The  Wapiti  205 

takes  short  flights  after  passing  insects,  as  often  as 
it  scrambles  over  the  twigs  in  the  ordinary  wood 
pecker  fashion.  Like  its  companion,  the  Clark's 
crow,  it  is  ordinarily  a  bird  of  the  high  tree-tops, 
and  around  these  it  indulges  in  curious  aerial  games, 
again  like  those  of  the  little  crow.  It  is  fond  of 
going  in  troops,  and  such  a  troop  frequently  choose 
some  tall  pine  and  soar  round  and  above  it  in  irregu 
lar  spirals. 

The  remarkable  and  almost  amphibious  little 
water  wren,  with  its  sweet  song,  its  familiarity,  and 
its  very  curious  habit  of  running  on  the  bottom  of 
the  stream,  several  feet  beneath  the  surface  of  the 
race  of  rapid  water,  is  the  most  noticeable  of  the 
small  birds  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  It  sometimes 
sings  loudly  while  floating  with  half-spread  wings  on 
the  surface  of  a  little  pool.  Taken  as  a  whole,  small 
birds  are  far  less  numerous  and  noticeable  in  the 
wilderness,  especially  in  the  deep  forests,  than  in  the 
groves  and  farmland  of  the  settled  country.  The 
hunter  and  trapper  are  less  familiar  with  small-bird 
music  than  with  the  screaming  of  the  eagle  and  the 
large  hawks,  the  croaking  bark  of  the  raven,  the 
loon's  cry,  the  crane's  guttural  clangor,  and  the  un 
earthly  yelling  and  hooting  of  the  big  owls. 

No  bird  is  so  common  around  camp,  so  familiar, 
so  amusing  on  some  occasions,  and  so  annoying  on 
others,  as  that  drab-colored  imp  of  iniquity,  the 
whiskey- jack — also  known  as  the  moose  bird  and 


206  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

camp  robber.  The  familiarity  of  these  birds  is  as 
tonishing,  and  the  variety  of  their  cries — generally 
harsh,  but  rarely  musical — extraordinary.  They 
snatch  scraps  of  food  from  the  entrances  of  the 
tents,  and  from  beside  the  camp  fire ;  and  they  shred 
the  venison  hung  in  the  trees  unless  closely  watched. 
I  have  seen  an  irate  cook  of  accurate  aim  knock 
one  off  an  elk-haunch,  with  a  club  seized  at  ran 
dom  ;  and  I  have  known  another  to  be  killed  with  a 
switch,  and  yet  another  to  be  caught  alive  in  the 
hand.  When  game  is  killed  they  are  the  first  birds 
to  come  to  the  carcass.  Following  them  come  the 
big  jays,  of  a  uniform  dark-blue  color,  who  bully 
them,  and  are  bullied  in  turn  by  the  next  arrivals, 
the  magpies;  while  when  the  big  ravens  come,  they 
keep  all  the  others  in  the  background,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  an  occasional  wide-awake  magpie. 

For  a  steady  diet  no  meat  tastes  better  or  is  more 
nourishing  than  elk  venison ;  moreover  the  different 
kinds  of  grouse  give  variety  to  the  fare,  and  deli 
cious  trout  swarm  throughout  the  haunts  of  the 
elk  in  the  Rockies.  I  have  never  seen  them  more 
numerous  than  in  the  wonderful  and  beautiful  Yel 
lowstone  Canyon,  a  couple  of  miles  below  where  the 
river  pitches  over  the  Great  Falls,  in  wind-swayed 
cataracts  of  snowy  foam.  At  this  point  it  runs  like 
a  mill-race,  in  its  narrow  winding  bed,  between  im 
mense  walls  of  queerly  carved  and  colored  rock 
which  tower  aloft  in  almost  perpendicular  cliffs. 


The   Wapiti  207 

Late  one  afternoon  in  the  fall  of  '90  Ferguson  and 
I  clambered  down  into  the  canyon,  with  a  couple 
of  rods,  and  in  an  hour  caught  all  the  fish  we  could 
carry.  It  then  lacked  much  less  than  an  hour  of 
nightfall,  and  we  had  a  hard  climb  to  get  out  of 
the  canyon  before  darkness  overtook  us;  as  there 
was  not  a  vestige  of  a  path,  and  as  the  climbing 
was  exceedingly  laborious,  and  at  one  or  two  points 
not  entirely  without  danger,  the  rocks  being  prac 
ticable  in  very  few  places,  we  could  hardly  have 
made  much  progress  after  it  became  too  dark  to 
see.  Each  of  us  carried  the  bag  of  trout  in  turn, 
and  I  personally  was  nearly  done  out  when  we 
reached  the  top;  and  then  had  to  trot  three  miles  to 
the  horses. 


CHAPTER  X 

AN    ELK-HUNT    AT    TWO-OCEAN    PASS 

IN  September,  1891,  with  my  ranch-partner,  Fer 
guson,  I  made  an  elk-hunt  in  northwestern 
Wyoming  among  the  Shoshone  Mountains,  where 
they  join  the  Hoodoo  and  Absoraka  ranges.  There 
is  no  more  beautiful  game-country  in  the  United 
States.  It  is  a  park  land,  where  glades,  meadows, 
and  high  mountain  pastures  break  the  evergreen 
forest;  a  forest  which  is  open  compared  to  the 
tangled  density  of  the  woodland  further  north.  It 
is  a  high,  cold  region  of  many  lakes  and  clear,  rush 
ing  streams.  The  steep  mountains  are  generally  of 
the  rounded  form  so  often  seen  in  the  ranges  of  the 
Cordilleras  of  the  United  States;  but  the  Hoodoos, 
or  Goblins,  are  carved  in  fantastic  and  extraordinary 
shapes;  while  the  Tetons,  a  group  of  isolated  rock- 
peaks,  show  a  striking  boldness  in  their  lofty  out 
lines. 

This  was  one  of  the  pleasantest  hunts  I  ever  made. 
As  always  in  the  mountains,  save  where  the  country 
is  so  rough  and  so  densely  wooded  that  one  must 
go  afoot,  we  had  a  pack-train ;  and  we  took  a  more 
complete  outfit  than  we  had  ever  before  taken  on 
such  a  hunt,  and  so  traveled  in  much  comfort.  Usu- 
(208) 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     209 

ally  when  in  the  mountains  I  have  merely  had  one 
companion,  or  at  most  a  couple,  and  two  or  three 
pack-ponies ;  each  of  us  doing  his  share  of  the  pack 
ing,  cooking,  fetching  water,  and  pitching  the  small 
square  of  canvas  which  served  as  tent.  In  itself 
packing  is  both  an  art  and  a  mystery,  and  a  skilful 
professional  packer,  versed  in  the  intricacies  of  the 
"diamond  hitch,"  packs  with  a  speed  which  no  non- 
professional  can  hope  to  rival,  and  fixes  the  side 
packs  and  top  packs  with  such  scientific  nicety,  and 
adjusts  the  doubles  and  turns  of  the  lash-rope  so 
accurately,  that  everything  stays  in  place  under  any 
but  the  most  adverse  conditions.  Of  course,  like 
most  hunters,  I  can  myself  in  case  of  need  throw  the 
diamond  hitch  after  a  fashion,  and  pack  on  either 
the  off  or  near  side.  Indeed,  unless  a  man  can  pack 
it  is  not  possible  to  make  a  really  hard  hunt  in  the 
mountains,  if  alone,  or  with  only  a  single  compan 
ion.  The  mere  fair-weather  hunter,  who  trusts  en 
tirely  to  the  exertions  of  others,  and  does  nothing 
more  than  ride  or  walk  about  under  favorable  cir 
cumstances,  and  shoot  at  what  somebody  else  shows 
him,  is  a  hunter  in  name  only.  Whoever  would 
really  deserve  the  title  must  be  able  at  a  pinch  to 
shift  for  himself,  to  grapple  with  the  difficulties  and 
hardships  of  wilderness  life  unaided,  and  not  only 
to  hunt,  but  at  times  to  travel  for  days,  whether  on 
foot  or  on  horseback,  alone.  However,  after  one 
has  passed  one's  novitiate,  it  is  pleasant  to  be  com- 


210  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

fortable  when  the  comfort  does  not  interfere  with 
the  sport;  and  although  a  man  sometimes  likes  to 
hunt  alone,  yet  often  it  is  well  to  be  with  some  old 
mountain  hunter,  a  master  of  woodcraft,  who  is  a 
first-rate  hand  at  finding  game,  creeping  upon  it, 
and  tracking  it  when  wounded.  With  such  a  com 
panion  one  gets  much  more  game,  and  learns  many 
things  by  observation  instead  of  by  painful  experi 
ence. 

On  this  trip  we  had  with  us  two  hunters,  Taze- 
well  Woody  and  Elwood  Hofer,  a  packer  who  acted 
as  cook,  and  a  boy  to  herd  the  horses.  Of  the  lat 
ter,  there  were  twenty ;  six  saddle-animals  and  four 
teen  for  the  packs — two  or  three  being  spare  horses, 
to  be  used  later  in  carrying  the  elk-antlers,  sheep- 
horns,  and  other  trophies.  Like  most  hunters'  pack- 
animals,  they  were  either  half-broken,  or  else  broken 
down;  tough,  unkempt,  jaded-looking  beasts  of 
every  color  —  sorrel,  buckskin,  pinto,  white,  bay, 
roan.  After  the  day's  work  was  over,  they  were 
turned  loose  to  shift  for  themselves ;  and  about  once 
a  week  they  strayed,  and  all  hands  had  to  spend  the 
better  part  of  the  day  hunting  for  them.  The  worst 
ones  for  straying,  curiously  enough,  were  three 
broken-down  old  "bear-baits,"  which  went  by  them 
selves,  as  is  generally  the  case  with  the  cast-off  horses 
of  a  herd.  There  were  two  sleeping  tents,  another 
for  the  provisions, — in  which  we  ate  during  bad 
weather, — and  a  canvas  tepee,  which  was  put  up  with 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     211 

lodge-poles,  Indian  fashion,  like  a  wigwam.  A 
tepee  is  more  difficult  to  put  up  than  an  ordinary 
tent ;  but  it  is  very  convenient  when  there  is  rain  or 
snow.  A  small  fire  kindled  in  the  middle  keeps  it 
warm,  the  smoke  escaping  through  the  open  top 
— that  is,  when  it  escapes  at  all;  strings  are  passed 
from  one  pole  to  another,  on  which  to  hang  wet 
clothes  and  shoes,  and  the  beds  are  made  around  the 
edges.  As  an  offset  to  the  warmth  and  shelter,  the 
smoke  often  renders  it  impossible  even  to  sit  up 
right.  We  had  a  very  good  camp-kit,  including 
plenty  of  cooking  and  eating  utensils;  and  among 
our  provisions  were  some  canned  goods  and  sweet 
meats,  to  give  a  relish  to  our  meals  of  meat  and 
bread.  We  had  fur  coats  and  warm  clothes, — 
which  are  chiefly  needed  at  night, — and  plenty  of 
bedding,  including  water-proof  canvas  sheeting  and 
a  couple  of  caribou-hide  sleeping-bags,  procured 
from  the  survivors  of  a  party  of  arctic  explorers. 
Except  on  rainy  days,  I  used  my  buckskin  hunting- 
shirt  or  tunic ;  in  dry  weather  I  deem  it,  because  of 
its  color,  its  texture,  and  its  durability,  the  best 
possible  garb  for  the  still-hunter,  especially  in  the 
woods. 

Starting  a  day's  journey  south  of  Heart  Lake, 
we  traveled  and  hunted  on  the  eastern  edge  of  the 
great  basin,  wooded  and  mountainous,  wherein  rise 
the  head-waters  of  the  mighty  Snake  River.  There 
was  not  so  much  as  a  spotted  line — that  series  of 


212  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

blazes  made  with  the  axe,  man's  first  highway 
through  the  hoary  forest, — but  this  we  did  not  mind, 
as  for  most  of  the  distance  we  followed  the  well- 
worn  elk-trails.  The  train  traveled  in  Indian  file. 
At  the  head,  to  pick  the  path,  rode  tall,  silent  old 
Woody,  a  true  type  of  the  fast-vanishing  race  of 
game  hunters  and  Indian  fighters,  a  man  who  had 
been  one  of  the  California  forty-niners,  and  who 
ever  since  had  lived  the  restless,  reckless  life  of  the 
wilderness.  Then  came  Ferguson  and  myself;  then 
the  pack-animals,  strung  out  in  line;  while  from 
the  rear  rose  the  varied  oaths  of  our  three  com 
panions,  whose  miserable  duty  it  was  to  urge  for 
ward  the  beasts  of  burden. 

It  is  heart-breaking  work  to  drive  a  pack-train 
through  thick  timber  and  over  mountains,  where 
there  is  either  a  dim  trail  or  none.  The  animals 
have  a  perverse  faculty  for  choosing  the  wrong  turn 
at  critical  moments;  and  they  are  continually  scrap 
ing  under  branches  and  squeezing  between  tree- 
trunks,  to  the  jeopardy  or  destruction  of  their  bur 
dens.  After  having  been  laboriously  driven  up  a 
very  steep  incline,  at  the  cost  of  severe  exertion  both 
to  them  and  to  the  men,  the  foolish  creatures  turn 
and  run  down  to  the  bottom,  so  that  all  the  work  has 
to  be  done  over  again.  Some  travel  too  slow ;  others 
travel  too  fast.  Yet  one  can  not  but  admire  the 
toughness  of  the  animals,  and  the  surefootedness 
with  which  they  pick  their  way  along  the  sheer 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     213 

mountain  sides,  or  among  bowlders  and  over  fallen 
logs. 

As  our  way  was  so  rough,  we  found  that  we  had 
to  halt  at  least  once  every  hour  to  fix  the  packs. 
Moreover,  we  at  the  head  of  the  column  were  con 
tinually  being  appealed  to  for  help  by  the  unfortu 
nates  in  the  rear.  First  it  would  be  "that  white- 
eyed  cayuse;  one  side  of  its  pack's  down!"  then  we 
would  be  notified  that  the  saddle-blanket  of  the  "lop- 
eared  Indian  buckskin"  had  slipped  back;  then  a 
shout  "Look  out  for  the  pinto!"  would  be  fol 
lowed  by  that  pleasing  beast's  appearance,  bucking 
and  squealing,  smashing  dead  timber,  and  scattering 
its  load  to  the  four  winds.  It  was  no  easy  task 
to  get  the  horses  across  some  of  the  boggy  places 
without  miring ;  or  to  force  them  through  the  denser 
portions  of  the  forest,  where  there  was  much  down 
timber.  Riding  with  a  pack-train,  day  in  and  day  out, 
becomes  both  monotonous  and  irritating,  unless  one 
is  upheld  by  the  hope  of  a  game-country  ahead,  or 
by  the  delight  of  exploration  of  the  unknown.  Yet 
when  buoyed  by  such  a  hope,  there  is  pleasure  in 
taking  a  train  across  so  beautiful  and  wild  a  country 
as  that  which  lay  on  the  threshold  of  our  hunting 
grounds  in  the  Shoshones.  We  went  over  moun 
tain  passes,  with  ranges  of  scalped  peaks  on  either 
hand;  we  skirted  the  edges  of  lovely  lakes,  and  of 
streams  with  bowlder-strewn  beds;  we  plunged  into 
depths  of  sombre  woodland,  broken  by  wet  prairies. 


214  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

It  was  a  picturesque  sight  to  see  the  loaded  pack- 
train  stringing  across  one  of  these  high  mountain 
meadows,  the  motley  colored  line  of  ponies  winding 
round  the  marshy  spots  through  the  bright  green 
grass,  while  beyond  rose  the  dark  line  of  frowning 
forest,  with  lofty  peaks  towering  in  the  background. 
Some  of  the  meadows  were  beautiful  with  many 
flowers — goldenrod,  purple  aster,  bluebells,  white 
immortelles,  and  here  and  there  masses  of  blood-red 
Indian  pinks.  In  the  park-country,  on  the  edges  of 
the  evergreen  forest,  were  groves  of  delicate  quak 
ing-aspen,  the  trees  often  growing  to  quite  a  height ; 
their  tremulous  leaves  were  already  changing  to 
bright  green  and  yellow,  occasionally  with  a  reddish 
blush.  In  the  Rocky  Mountains  the  aspens  are  al 
most  the  only  deciduous  trees,  their  foliage  offering 
a  pleasant  relief  to  the  eye  after  the  monotony  of  the 
unending  pine  and  spruce  woods,  which  afford  so 
striking  a  contrast  to  the  hardwood  forest  east  of 
the  Mississippi. 

For  two  days  our  journey  was  uneventful,  save 
that  we  came  on  the  camp  of  a  squaw-man — one 
Beaver  Dick,  an  old  mountain  hunter,  living  in  a 
skin  tepee,  where  dwelt  his  comely  Indian  wife  and 
half-breed  children.  He  had  quite  a  herd  of  horses, 
many  of  them  mares  and  colts ;  they  had  evidently 
been  well  treated,  and  came  up  to  us  fearlessly. 

The  morning  of  the  third  day  of  our  journey  was 
gray  and  lowering.  Gusts  of  rain  blew  in  my  face  as 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     215 

I  rode  at  the  head  of  the  train.  It  still  lacked  an  hour 
of  noon,  as  we  were  plodding  up  a  valley  beside  a 
rapid  brook  running  through  narrow  willow-flats, 
the  dark  forest  crowding  down  on  either  hand  from 
the  low  foothills  of  the  mountains.  Suddenly  the  call 
of  a  bull  elk  came  echoing  down  through  the  wet 
woodland  on  our  right,  beyond  the  brook,  seemingly 
less  than  half  a  mile  off;  and  was  answered  by  a 
faint,  far-off  call  from  a  rival  on  the  mountain  be 
yond.  Instantly  halting  the  train,  Woody  and  I 
slipped  off  our  horses,  crossed  the  brook,  and  started 
to  still-hunt  the  first  bull. 

In  this  place  the  forest  was  composed  of  the 
Western  tamarack;  the  large,  tall  trees  stood  well 
apart,  and  there  was  much  down  timber,  but  the 
ground  was  covered  with  deep  wet  moss,  over  which 
we  trod  silently.  The  elk  was  traveling  up-wind, 
but  slowly,  stopping  continually  to  paw  the  ground 
and  thresh  the  bushes  with  his  antlers.  He  was  very 
noisy,  challenging  every  minute  or  two,  being  doubt 
less  much  excited  by  the  neighborhood  of  his  rival 
on  the  mountain.  We  followed,  Woody  leading, 
guided  by  the  incessant  calling. 

It  was  very  exciting  as  we  crept  toward  the  great 
bull,  and  the  challenge  sounded  nearer  and  nearer. 
While  we  were  still  at  some  distance  the  pealing 
notes  were  like  those  of  a  bugle,  delivered  in  two 
bars,  first  rising,  then  abruptly  falling;  as  we  drew 
nearer  they  took  on  a  harsh  squealing  sound.  Each 


2i 6  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

call  made  our  veins  thrill;  it  sounded  like  the  cry 
of  some  huge  beast  of  prey.  At  last  we  heard  the 
roar  of  the  challenge  not  eighty  yards  off.  Steal 
ing  forward  three  or  four  yards,  I  saw  the  tips  of 
the  horns  through  a  mass  of  dead  timber  and  young 
growth,  and  I  slipped  to  one  side  to  get  a  clean 
shot. 

Seeing  us  but  not  making  out  what  we  were, 
and  full  of  fierce  and  insolent  excitement,  the  wapiti 
bull  stepped  boldly  toward  us  with  a  stately  swing 
ing  gait.  Then  he  stood  motionless,  facing  us, 
barely  fifty  yards  away,  his  handsome  twelve-tine'd 
antlers  tossed  aloft,  as  he  held  his  head  with  the 
lordly  grace  of  his  kind.  I  fired  into  his  chest,  and 
as  he  turned  I  raced  forward  and  shot  him  in  the 
flank ;  but  the  second  bullet  was  not  needed,  for  the 
first  wound  was  mortal,  and  he  fell  before  going 
fifty  yards. 

The  dead  elk  lay  among  the  young  evergreens. 
The  huge,  shapely  body  was  set  on  legs  that  were  as 
strong  as  steel  rods,  and  yet  slender,  clean,  arid 
smooth ;  they  were  in  color  a  beautiful  dark  brown, 
contrasting  well  with  the  yellowish  of  the  body. 
The  neck  and  throat  were  garnished  with  a  mane  of 
long  hair;  the  symmetry  of  the  great  horns  set  off 
the  fine,  delicate  lines  of  the  noble  head.  He  had 
been  wallowing,  as  elk  are  fond  of  doing,  and  the 
dried  mud  clung  in  patches  to  his  flank ;  a  stab  in  the 
haunch  showed  that  he  had  been  overcome  in  battle 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     217 

by  some  master  bull  who  had  turned  him  out  of  the 
herd. 

We  cut  off  the  head,  and  bore  it  down  to  the  train. 
The  horses  crowded  together,  snorting,  with  their 
ears  pricked  forward,  as  they  smelt  the  blood.  We 
also  took  the  loins  with  us,  as  we  were  out  of  meat, 
though  bull  elk  in  the  rutting  season  is  not  very 
good.  The  rain  had  changed  to  a  steady  downpour 
when  we  again  got  under  way.  Two  or  three 
miles  further  we  pitched  camp,  in  a  clump  of  pines 
on  a  hillock  in  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  starting  hot 
fires  of  pitchy  stumps  before  the  tents,  to  dry  our 
wet  things. 

Next  day  opened  with  fog  and  cold  rain.  The 
drenched  pack-animals,  when  driven  into  camp, 
stood  mopingly,  with  drooping  heads  and  arched 
backs;  they  groaned  and  grunted  as  the  loads  were 
placed  on  their  backs  and  the  cinches  tightened,  the 
packers  bracing  one  foot  against  the  pack  to  get  a 
purchase  as  they  hauled  in  on  the  lash-rope.  A 
stormy  morning  is  a  trial  to  temper;  the  packs  are 
wet  and  heavy,  and  the  cold  makes  the  work  even 
more  than  usually  hard  on  the  hands.  By  ten  we 
broke  camp.  It  needs  between  two  and  three  hours 
to  break  camp  and  get  such  a  train  properly  packed ; 
once  started,  our  day's  journey  was  six  to  eight 
hours,  making  no  halt.  We  started  up  a  steep,  pine- 
clad  mountain  side,  broken  by  cliffs.  My  hunting- 
shoes,  though  comfortable,  were  old  and  thin,  and 

10  VOL.  II. 


2i 8  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

let  the  water  through  like  a  sieve.  On  the  top  of 
the  first  plateau,  where  black  spruce  groves  were 
strewn  across  the  grassy  surface,  we  saw  a  band  of 
elk,  cows  and  calves,  trotting  off  through  the  rain. 
Then  we  plunged  down  into  a  deep  valley,  and, 
crossing  it,  a  hard  climb  took  us  to  the  top  of  a 
great  bare  tableland,  bleak  and  wind-swept.  We 
passed  little  alpine  lakes,  fringed  with  scattering 
dwarf  evergreens.  Snow  lay  in  drifts  on  the  north 
sides  of  the  gullies ;  a  cutting  wind  blew  the  icy  rain 
in  our  faces.  For  two  or  three  hours  we  traveled 
toward  the  further  edge  of  the  tableland.  In  one 
place  a  spike  bull  elk  stood  half  a  mile  off,  in  the 
open ;  he  traveled  to  and  fro,  watching  us. 

As  we  neared  the  edge  the  storm  lulled,  and  pale, 
watery  sunshine  gleamed  through  the  rifts  in  the 
low-scudding  clouds.  At  last  our  horses  stood  on 
the  brink  of  a  bold  cliff.  Deep  down  beneath  our 
feet  lay  the  wild  and  lonely  valley  of  Two-Ocean 
Pass,  walled  in  on  either  hand  by  rugged  mountain 
chains,  their  flanks  scarred  and  gashed  by  precipice 
and  chasm.  Beyond,  in  a  wilderness  of  jagged  and 
barren  peaks,  stretched  the  Shoshones.  At  the  mid 
dle  point  of  the  pass,  two  streams  welled  down  from 
either  side.  At  first  each  flowed  in  but  one  bed,  but 
soon  divided  into  two;  each  of  the  twin  branches 
then  joined  the  like  branch  of  the  brook  opposite,  and 
swept  one  to  the  east  and  one  to  the  west,  on  their 
long  journey  to  the  two  great  oceans.  They  ran  as 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     219 

rapid  brooks,  through  wet  meadows  and  willow-flats, 
the  eastern  to  the  Yellowstone,  the  western  to  the 
Snake.  The  dark  pine  forests  swept  down  from  the 
flanks  and  lower  ridges  of  the  mountains  to  the 
edges  of  the  marshy  valley.  Above  them  jutted  gray 
rock  peaks,  snow-drifts  lying  in  the  rents  that 
seamed  their  northern  faces.  Far  below  its,  from  a 
great  basin  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff,  filled  with  the 
pine  forest,  rose  the  musical  challenge  of  a  bull  elk ; 
and  we  saw  a  band  of  cows  and  calves  looking  like 
mice  as  they  ran  among  the  trees. 

It  was  getting  late,  and  after  some  search  we 
failed  to  find  any  trail  leading  down;  so  at  last  we 
plunged  over  the  brink  at  a  venture.  It  was  very 
rough  scrambling,  dropping  from  bench  to  bench, 
and  in  places  it  was  not  only  difficult  but  dangerous 
for  the  loaded  pack-animals.  Here  and  there  we 
were  helped  by  well-beaten  elk-trails,  which  we  could 
follow  for  several  hundred  yards  at  a  time.  On 
one  narrow  pine-clad  ledge,  we  met  a  spike  bull  face 
to  face ;  and  in  scrambling  down  a  very  steep,  bare, 
rock-strewn  shoulder,  the  loose  stones  started  by 
the  horses'  hoofs,  bounding  in  great  leaps  to  the  for 
est  below,  dislodged  two  cows. 

As  evening  fell,  we  reached  the  bottom,  and 
pitched  camp  in  a  beautiful  point  of  open  pine  forest, 
thrust  out  into  the  meadow.  There  was  good  shel 
ter,  and  plenty  of  wood,  water  and  grass;  we  built 
a  huge  fire  and  put  up  our  tents,  scattering  them  in 


220  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

likely  places  among  the  pines,  which  grew  far  apart 
and  without  undergrowth.  We  dried  our  steaming 
clothes,  and  ate  a  hearty  supper  of  elk-meat ;  then  we 
turned  into  our  beds,  warm  and  dry,  and  slept  sound 
ly  under  the  canvas,  while  all  night  long  the  storm 
roared  without.  Next  morning  it  still  stormed  fit 
fully  ;  the  high  peaks  and  ridges  round  about  were  all 
capped  with  snow.  Woody  and  I  started  on  foot  for 
an  all-day  tramp ;  the  amount  of  game  seen  the  day 
before  showed  that  we  were  in  a  good  elk  country, 
where  the  elk  had  been  so  little  disturbed  that  they 
fwere  traveling,  feeding,  and  whistling  in  daylight. 
For  three  hours  wre  walked  across  the  forest-clad 
spurs  of  the  foothills.  We  roused  a  small  band  of 
elk  in  thick  timber;  but  they  rushed  off  before  we 
saw  them,  with  much  smashing  of  dead  branches. 
Then  we  climbed  to  the  summit  of  the  range.  The 
wind  was  light  and  baffling;  it  blew  from  all  points, 
veering  every  few  minutes.  There  were  occasional 
rain-squalls;  our  feet  and  legs  were  well  soaked; 
and  we  became  chilled  through  whenever  \ve  sat 
down  to  listen.  We  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  big  bull 
feeding  up-hill,  and  followed  him ;  it  needed  smart 
running  to  overtake  him,  for  an  elk,  even  wrhile  feed 
ing,  has  a  ground-covering  gait.  Finally  we  got 
within  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  yards,  but  in  very 
thick  timber,  and  all  I  could  see  plainly  was  the  hip 
and  the  after-part  of  the  flank.  I  waited  for  a 
chance  at  the  shoulder,  but  the  bull  got  my  wind  and 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     221 

was  off  before  I  could  pull  trigger.  It  was  just  one 
of  those  occasions  when  there  are  two  courses  to 
pursue,  neither  very  good,  and  when  one  is  apt  to 
regret  whichever  decision  is  made. 

At  noon  we  came  to  the  edge  of  a  deep  and  wide 
gorge,  and  sat  down  shivering  to  await  what  might 
turn  up,  our  fingers  numb,  and  our  wet  feet  icy. 
Suddenly  the  love-challenge  of  an  elk  came  pealing 
across  the  gorge,  through  the  fine,  cold  rain,  from 
the  heart  of  the  forest  opposite.  An  hour's  stiff 
climb,  down  and  up,  brought  us  nearly  to  him;  but 
the  wind  forced  us  to  advance  from  below  through 
a  series  of  open  glades.  He  was  lying  on  a  point 
of  the  cliff-shoulder,  surrounded  by  his  cows;  and 
he  saw  us  and  made  off.  An  hour  afterward,  as 
we  were  trudging  up  a  steep  hillside  dotted  with 
groves  of  fir  and  spruce,  a  young  bull  of  ten  points, 
roused  from  his  day-bed  by  our  approach,  galloped 
across  us  some  sixty  yards  off.  We  were  in  need 
of  better  venison  than  can  be  furnished  by  an  old 
rutting  bull;  so  I  instantly  took  a  shot  at  the  fat 
and  tender  young  ten-pointer.  I  aimed  well  ahead 
and  pulled  trigger  just  as  he  came  to  a  small  gully ; 
and  he  fell  into  it  in  a  heap  with  a  resounding  crash. 
This  was  on  the  birthday  of  my  eldest  small  son; 
so  I  took  him  home  the  horns,  "for  his  very  own." 
On  the  way  back  that  afternoon  I  shot  off  the  heads 
of  two  blue  grouse,  as  they  perched  in  the  pines. 

That  evening  the  storm  broke,  and  the  weather 


222  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

became  clear  and  very  cold,  so  that  the  snow  made 
the  frosty  mountains  gleam  like  silver.  The  moon 
was  full,  and  in  the  flood  of  light  the  wild  scenery 
round  our  camp  was  very  beautiful.  As  always 
where  we  camped  for  several  days,  we  had  fixed 
long  tables  and  settles,  and  were  most  comfortable; 
and  when  we  came  in  at  nightfall,  or  sometimes  long 
afterward,  cold,  tired,  and  hungry,  it  was  sheer 
physical  delight  to  get  warm  before  the  roaring  fire 
of  pitchy  stumps,  and  then  to  feast  ravenously  on 
bread  and  beans,  on  stewed  or  roasted  elk  venison, 
on  grouse  and  sometimes  trout,  and  flapjacks  with 
maple  syrup. 

Next  morning  dawned  clear  and  cold,  the  sky  a 
glorious  blue.  Woody  and  I  started  to  hunt  over 
the  great  tableland,  and  led  our  stout  horses  up  the 
mountain-side,  by  elk-trails  so  bad  that  they  had  to 
climb  like  goats.  All  these  elk-trails  have  one  strik 
ing  peculiarity.  They  lead  through  thick  timber, 
but  every  now  and  then  send  off  short,  well-worn 
branches  to  some  cliff-edge  or  jutting  crag,  com 
manding  a  view  far  and  wide  over  the  country 
beneath.  Elk  love  to  stand  on  these  lookout  points, 
and  scan  the  valleys  and  mountains  round  about. 

Blue  grouse  rose  from  beside  our  path;  Clark's 
crows  flew  past  us,  with  a  hollow,  flapping  sound, 
or  lit  in  the  pine-tops,  calling  and  flirting  their  tails ; 
the  gray-clad  whiskey- jacks,  with  multitudinous 
cries,  hopped  and  fluttered  near  us.  Snowshoe  rab- 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     223 

bits  scuttled  away,  the  big  furry  feet  which  give  them 
their  name  already  turning  white.  At  last  we  came 
out  on  the  great  plateau,  seamed  with  deep,  narrow 
ravines.  Reaches  of  pasture  alternated  with  groves 
and  open  forests  of  varying  size.  Almost  immedi 
ately  we  heard  the  bugle  of  a  bull  elk,  and  saw  a 
big  band  of  cows  and  calves  on  the  other  side  of  a 
valley.  There  were  three  bulls  with  them,  one  very 
large,  and  we  tried  to  creep  up  on  them;  but  the 
wind  was  baffling  and  spoiled  our  stalk.  So  we  re 
turned  to  our  horses,  mounted  them,  and  rode  a  mile 
further,  toward  a  large  open  wood  on  a  hillside. 
When  within  two  hundred  yards  we  heard  directly 
ahead  the  bugle  of  a  bull,  and  pulled  up  short.  In 
a  moment  I  saw  him  walking  through  an  open  glade ; 
he  had  not  seen  us.  The  slight  breeze  brought  us 
down  his  scent.  Elk  have  a  strong  characteristic 
smell ;  it  is  usually  sweet,  like  that  of  a  herd  of  Al- 
derney  cows;  but  in  old  bulls,  while  rutting,  it  is 
rank,  pungent,  and  lasting.  We  stood  motionless 
till  the  bull  was  out  of  sight,  then  stole  to  the  wood, 
tied  our  horses,  and  trotted  after  him.  He  was 
traveling  fast,  occasionally  calling;  whereupon  oth 
ers  in  the  neighborhood  would  answer.  Evidently 
he  had  been  driven  out  of  some  herd  by  the  master 
bull. 

He  went  faster  than  we  did,  and  while  we  were 
vainly  trying  to  overtake  him  we  heard  another  very 
loud  and  sonorous  challenge  to  our  left.  It  came 


224  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

from  a  ridge-crest  at  the  edge  of  the  woods,  among 
some  scattered  clumps  of  the  northern  nut-pine  or 
pinyon — a  queer  conifer,  growing  very  high  on  the 
mountains,  its  multi forked  trunk  and  wide-spread 
ing  branches  giving  it  the  rounded  top,  and,  at  a 
distance,  the  general  look  of  an  oak  rather  than  a 
pine.  We  at  once  walked  toward  the  ridge,  up-wind. 
In  a  minute  or  two,  to  our  chagrin,  we  stumbled  on 
an  outlying  spike  bull,  evidently  kept  on  the  out 
skirts  of  the  herd  by  the  master  bull.  I  thought  he 
would  alarm  all  the  rest;  but,  as  we  stood  motion 
less,  he  could  not  see  clearly  what  we  were.  He 
stood,  ran,  stood  again,  gazed  at  us,  and  trotted 
slowly  off.  We  hurried  forward  as  fast  as  we  dared, 
and  with  too  little  care;  for  we  suddenly  came  in 
view  of  two  cows.  As  they  raised  their  heads  to 
look,  Woody  squatted  down  where  he  was,  to  keep 
their  attention  fixed,  while  I  cautiously  tried  to  slip 
off  to  one  side  unobserved.  Favored  by  the  neutral 
tint  of  my  buckskin  hunting-shirt,  with  which  my 
shoes,  leggings,  and  soft  hat  matched,  I  succeeded. 
As  soon  as  I  was  out  of  sight  I  ran  hard  and  came 
up  to  a  hillock  crested  with  pinyons,  behind  which  I 
judged  I  should  find  the  herd.  As  I  approached  the 
crest,  their  strong,  sweet  smell  smote  my  nostrils. 
In  another  moment  I  saw  the  tips  of  a  pair  of  mighty 
antlers,  and  I  peered  over  the  crest  with  my  rifle  at 
the  ready.  Thirty  yards  off,  behind  a  clump  of 
pinyons,  stood  a  huge  bull,  his  head  thrown  back  as 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     225 

he  rubbed  his  shoulders  with  his  horns.  There  were 
several  cows  around  him,  and  one  saw  me  immedi 
ately,  and  took  alarm.  I  fired  into  the  bull's  shoul 
der,  inflicting  a  mortal  wound ;  but  he  went  off,  and 
I  raced  after  him  at  top  speed,  firing  twice  into  his 
flank;  then  he  stopped,  very  sick,  and  I  broke  his 
neck  with  a  fourth  bullet.  An  elk  often  hesitates  in 
the  first  moments  of  surprise  and  fright,  and  does 
not  get  really  under  way  for  two  or  three  hundred 
yards ;  but,  when  once  fairly  started,  he  may  go  sev 
eral  miles,  even  though  mortally  wounded;  there 
fore,  the  hunter,  after  his  first  shot,  should  run  for 
ward  as  fast  as  he  can,  and  shoot  again  and  again 
until  the  quarry  drops.  In  this  way  many  animals 
that  would  otherwise  be  lost  are  obtained,  especially 
by  the  man  who  has  a  repeating-rifle.  Neverthe 
less,  the  hunter  should  beware  of  being  led  astray  by 
the  ease  with  which  he  can  fire  half  a  dozen  shots 
from  his  repeater;  and  he  should  aim  as  carefully 
with  each  shot  as  if  it  were  his  last.  No  possible 
rapidity  of  fire  can  atone  for  habitual  carelessness 
of  aim  with  the  first  shot. 

The  elk  I  thus  slew  was  a  giant.  His  body  was 
the  size  of  a  steer's,  and  his  antlers,  though  not  un 
usually  long,  were  very  massive  and  heavy.  He  lay 
in  a  glade,  on  the  edge  of  a  great  cliff.  Standing 
on  its  brink  we  overlooked  a  most  beautiful  country, 
the  home  of  all  homes  for  the  elk:  a  wilderness  of 
mountains,  the  immense  evergreen  forest  broken  by 


226  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

park  and  glade,  by  meadow  and  pasture,  by  bare 
hillside  and  barren  tableland.  Some  five  miles  off 
lay  the  sheet  of  water  known  to  the  old  hunters  as 
Spotted  Lake;  two  or  three  shallow,  sedgy  places, 
and  spots  of  geyser  formation,  made  pale  green 
blotches  on  its  wind-rippled  surface.  Far  to  the 
southwest,  in  daring  beauty  and  majesty,  the  grand 
domes  and  lofty  spires  of  the  Tetons  shot  into  the 
blue  sky.  Too  sheer  for  the  snow  to  rest  on  their 
sides,  it  yet  filled  the  rents  in  their  rough  flanks,  and 
lay  deep  between  the  towering  pinnacles  of  dark 
rock. 

That  night,  as  on  more  than  one  night  afterward, 
a  bull  elk  came  down  whistling  to  within  two  or 
three  hundred  yards  of  the  tents,  and  tried  to  join 
the  horse  herd.  The  moon  had  set,  so  I  could  not 
go  after  it.  Elk  are  very  restless  and  active  through 
out  the  night  in  the  rutting  season;  but  where  un 
disturbed  they  feed  freely  in  the  daytime,  resting  for 
two  or  three  hours  about  noon. 

Next  day,  which  was  rainy,  we  spent  in  getting 
in  the  antlers  and  meat  of  the  two  dead  elk;  and  I 
shot  off  the  heads  of  two  or  three  blue  grouse  on 
the  way  home.  The  following  day  I  killed  another 
bull  elk,  following  him  by  the  strong,  not  unpleas- 
ing,  smell,  and  hitting  him  twice  as  he  ran,  at  about 
eighty  yards.  So  far  I  had  had  good  luck,  killing 
everything  I  had  shot  at ;  but  now  the  luck  changed, 
through  no  fault  of  mine,  as  far  as  I  could  see,  and 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     227 

Ferguson  had  his  innings.  The  day  after  I  killed 
this  bull  he  shot  two  fine  mountain  rams;  and  dur 
ing  the  remainder  of  our  hunt  he  killed  five  elk, — 
one  cow,  for  meat,  and  four  good  bulls.  The  two 
rams  were  with  three  others,  all  old  and  with  fine 
horns;  Ferguson  peeped  over  a  lofty  precipice  and 
saw  them  coming  up  it  only  fifty  yards  below  him. 
His  first  two  and  finest  bulls  were  obtained  by  hard 
running  and  good  shooting;  the  herds  were  on  the 
move  at  the  time,  and  only  his  speed  of  foot  and 
soundness  of  wind  enabled  him  to  get  near  enough 
for  a  shot.  One  herd  started  before  he  got  close, 
and  he  killed  the  master  bull  by  a  shot  right  through 
the  heart,  as  it  trotted  past,  a  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  distant. 

As  for  me,  during  the  next  ten  days  I  killed  noth 
ing  save  one  cow  for  meat ;  and  this  though  I  hunted 
hard  every  day  from  morning  till  night,  no  matter 
what  the  wreather.  It  was  stormy,  with  hail  and 
snow  almost  every  day;  and  after  working  hard 
from  dawn  until  nightfall,  laboriously  climbing  the 
slippery  mountain-sides,  walking  through  the  wet 
woods,  and  struggling  across  the  bare  plateaus  and 
cliff-shoulders,  while  the  violent  blasts  of  wind 
drove  the  frozen  rain  in  our  faces,  we  would  come 
in  after  dusk  wet  through  and  chilled  to  the  mar 
row.  Even  when  it  rained  in  the  valleys  it  snowed 
on  the  mountain-tops,  and  there  was  no  use  trying 
to  keep  our  feet  dry.  I  got  three  shots  at  bull  elk, 


228  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

two  being  very  hurried  snapshots  at  animals  running 
in  thick  timber,  the  other  a  running-shot  in  the  open, 
at  over  two  hundred  yards ;  and  I  missed  all  three. 
On  most  days  I  saw  no  bull  worth  shooting;  the 
two  or  three  I  did  see  or  hear  we  failed  to  stalk, 
the  light,  shifty  wind  baffling  us,  or  else  an  outlying 
cow  which  we  had  not  seen  giving  the  alarm.  There 
were  many  blue  and  a  few  ruffed  grouse  in  the 
woods,  and  I  occasionally  shot  off  the  heads  of  a 
couple  on  my  way  homeward  in  the  evening.  In 
racing  after  one  elk,  I  leaped  across  a  gully  and  so 
bruised  and  twisted  my  heel  on  a  rock  that,  for  the 
remainder  of  my  stay  in  the  mountains,  I  had  to 
walk  on  the  fore  part  of  that  foot.  This  did  not  in 
terfere  much  with  my  walking,  however,  except  in 
going  down-hill. 

Our  ill  success  was  in  part  due  to  sheer  bad  luck ; 
but  the  chief  element  therein  was  the  presence  of  a 
great  hunting-party  of  Shoshone  Indians.  Split  into 
bands  of  eight  or  ten  each,  they  scoured  the  whole 
country  on  their  tough,  sure-footed  ponies.  They 
always  hunted  on  horseback,  and  followed  the  elk 
at  full  speed  wherever  they  went.  Their  method  of 
hunting  was  to  organize  great  drives,  the  riders 
strung  in  lines  far  apart;  they  signaled  to  one  an 
other  by  means  of  willow  whistles,  with  which  they 
also  imitated  the  calling  of  the  bull  elk,  thus  tolling 
the  animals  to  them,  or  making  them  betray  their 
whereabout.  As  they  slew  whatever  they  could,  but 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     229 

by  preference  cows  and  calves,  and  as  they  were  very 
persevering,  but  also  very  excitable  and  generally 
poor  shots,  so  that  they  wasted  much  powder,  they 
not  only  wrought  havoc  among  the  elk,  but  also 
scared  the  survivors  out  of  all  the  country  over  which 
they  hunted. 

Day  in  and  day  out  we  plodded  on.  In  a  hunting 
trip  the  days  of  long  monotony  in  getting  to  the 
ground,  and  the  days  of  unrequited  toil  after  it  has 
been  reached,  always  far  outnumber  the  red-letter 
days  of  success.  But  it  is  just  these  times  of  failure 
that  really  test  a  hunter.  In  the  long  run,  common 
sense  and  dogged  perseverance  avail  him  more  than 
any  other  qualities.  The  man  who  does  not  give 
up,  but  hunts  steadily  and  resolutely  through  the 
spells  of  bad  luck  until  the  luck  turns,  is  the  man 
who  wins  success  in  the  end. 

After  a  week  at  Two-Ocean  Pass,  we  gathered 
our  pack-animals  one  frosty  morning,  and  again  set 
off  across  the  mountains.  A  two-days'  jaunt  took 
us  to  the  summit  of  Wolverine  Pass,  near  Pinyon 
Peak,  beside  a  little  mountain  tarn ;  each  morning  we 
found  its  surface  skimmed  with  black  ice,  for  the 
nights  were  cold.  After  three  or  four  days,  we 
shifted  camp  to  the  mouth  of  Wolverine  Creek,  to 
get  off  the  hunting  grounds  of  the  Indians.  We 
had  used  up  our  last  elk-meat  that  morning,  and 
when  we  were  within  a  couple  of  hours'  journey  of 
our  intended  halting-place,  Woody  and  I  struck 


230  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

off  on  foot  for  a  hunt.  Just  before  sunset  we  came 
on  three  or  four  elk ;  a  spike  bull  stood  for  a  moment 
behind  some  thick  evergreens  a  hundred  yards  off. 
Guessing  at  his  shoulder,  I  fired,  and  he  fell  dead 
after  running  a  few  rods.  I  had  broken  the  luck, 
after  ten  days  of  ill  success. 

Next  morning  Woody  and  I,  with  the  packer, 
rode  to  where  this  elk  lay.  We  loaded  the  meat  on 
a  pack-horse,  and  let  the  packer  take  both  the  loaded 
animal  and  our  own  saddle-horses  back  to  camp, 
while  we  made  a  hunt  on  foot.  We  went  up  the 
steep,  forest-clad  mountain-side,  and  before  we  had 
walked  an  hour  heard  two  elk  whistling  ahead  of 
us.  The  woods  were  open,  and  quite  free  from 
undergrowth,  and  we  were  able  to  advance  noise 
lessly  ;  there  was  no  wind,  for  the  weather  was  still, 
clear  and  cold.  Both  of  the  elk  were  evidently  very 
much  excited,  answering  each  other  continually; 
they  had  probably  been  master  bulls,  but  had  become 
so  exhausted  that  their  rivals  had  driven  them  from 
the  herds,  forcing  them  to  remain  in  seclusion  until 
they  regained  their  lost  strength.  As  we  crept  stealth 
ily  forward,  the  calling  grew  louder  and  louder,  until 
we  could  hear  the  grunting  sounds  with  which  the 
challenge  of  the  nearest  ended.  He  was  in  a  large 
wallow,  which  was  also  a  lick.  When  we  were 
still  sixty  yards  off,  he  heard  us,  and  rushed  out,  but 
wheeled  and  stood  a  moment  to  gaze,  puzzled  by 
my  buckskin  suit.  ,1  fired  into  his  throat,  breaking 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     231 

his  neck,  and  down  he  went  in  a  heap.  Rushing  in 
and  turning,  I  called  to  Woody,  "He's  a  twelve- 
pointer,  but  the  horns  are  small !"  As  I  spoke  I 
heard  the  roar  of  the  challenge  of  the  other  bull  not 
two  hundred  yards  ahead,  as  if  in  defiant  answer  to 
my  shot. 

Running  quietly  forward,  I  speedily  caught  a 
glimpse  of  his  body.  He  was  behind  some  fir-trees 
about  seventy  yards  off,  and  I  could  not  see  which 
way  he  was  standing,  and  so  fired  into  the  patch 
of  flank  which  was  visible,  aiming  high,  to  break  the 
back.  My  aim  was  true,  and  the  huge  beast  crashed 
down  hill  through  the  evergreens,  pulling  himself 
on  his  fore  legs  for  fifteen  or  twenty  rods,  his  hind 
quarters  trailing.  Racing  forward,  I  broke  his  neck. 
His  antlers  were  the  finest  I  ever  got.  A  couple  of 
whiskey- jacks  appeared  at  the  first  crack  of  the  rifle 
with  their  customary  astonishing  familiarity  and 
heedlessness  of  the  hunter;  they  followed  the 
wounded  bull  as  he  dragged  his  great  carcass  down 
the  hill,  and  pounced  with  ghoulish  bloodthirstiness 
on  the  gouts  of  blood  that  were  sprinkled  over  the 
green  herbage. 

These  two  bulls  lay  only  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards  apart,  on  a  broad  game-trail,  which  was  as 
well  beaten  as  a  good  bridle-path.  We  began  to 
skin  out  the  heads;  and  as  we  were  finishing  we 
heard  another  bull  challenging  far  up  the  mountain. 
He  came  nearer  and  nearer,  and  as  soon  as  we 


232  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

had  ended  our  work  we  grasped  our  rifles  and 
trotted  toward  him  along  the  game-trail.  He  was 
very  noisy,  uttering  his  loud,  singing  challenge  every 
minute  or  two.  The  trail  was  so  broad  and  firm  that 
we  walked  in  perfect  silence.  After  going  only  five 
or  six  hundred  yards,  we  got  very  close  indeed,  and 
stole  forward  on  tiptoe,  listening  to  the  roaring 
music.  The  sound  came  from  a  steep,  narrow 
ravine,  to  one  side  of  the  trail,  and  I  walked  toward 
it  with  my  rifle  at  the  ready.  A  slight  puff  gave  the 
elk  my  wind,  and  he  dashed  out  of  the  ravine  like 
mad;  but  he  was  only  thirty  yards  off,  and  my 
bullet  went  into  his  shoulder  as  he  passed  behind  a 
clump  of  young  spruce.  I  plunged  into  the  ravine, 
scrambled  out  of  it,  and  raced  after  him.  In  a 
minute  I  saw  him  standing  with  drooping  head, 
and  two  more  shots  finished  him.  He  also  bore  fine 
antlers.  It  was  a  great  piece  of  luck  to  get  three 
such  fine  bulls  at  the  cost  of  half  a  day's  light  work ; 
but  we  had  fairly  earned  them,  having  worked  hard 
for  ten  days,  through  rain,  cold,  hunger,  and  fatigue, 
to  no  purpose.  That  evening  my  home-coming  to 
camp,  with  three  elk-tongues  and  a  brace  of  ruffed 
grouse  hung  at  my  belt,  was  most  happy. 

Next  day  it  snowed,  but  we  brought  a  pack-pony 
to  where  the  three  great  bulls  lay,  and  took  their 
heads  to  camp;  the  flesh  was  far  too  strong  to  be 
-worth  taking,  for  it  was  just  the  height  of  the  rut. 

This  was  the  end  of  my  hunt;  and  a  day  later 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     233 

Hofer  and  I,  with  two  pack-ponies,  made  a  rapid 
push  for  the  Upper  Geyser  Basin.  We  traveled 
fast.  The  first  day  was  gray  and  overcast,  a  cold 
wind  blowing  strong  in  our  faces.  Toward  evening 
we  came  on  a  bull  elk  in  a  willow  thicket;  he  was 
on  his  knees  in  a  hollow,  thrashing  and  beating 
the  willows  with  his  antlers.  At  dusk  we  halted  and 
went  into  camp,  by  some  small  pools  on  the  summit 
of  the  pass  north  of  Red  Mountain.  The  elk  were 
calling  all  around  us.  We  pitched  our  cosey  tent, 
dragged  great  stumps  for  the  fire,  cut  evergreen 
boughs  for  our  beds,  watered  the  horses,  tethered 
them  to  improvised  picket-pins  in  a  grassy  glade, 
and  then  set  about  getting  supper  ready.  The  wind 
had  gone  down,  and  snow  was  falling  thick  in  large, 
soft  flakes;  we  were  evidently  at  the  beginning  of 
a  heavy  snowstorm.  All  night  we  slept  soundly  in 
our  snug  tent.  When  we  arose  at  dawn  there  was 
a  foot  and  a  half  of  snow  on  the  ground,  and  the 
flakes  were  falling  as  fast  as  ever.  There  is  no 
more  tedious  work  than  striking  camp  in  bad  weath 
er  ;  and  it  was  over  two  hours  from  the  time  we  rose 
to  the  time  we  started.  It  is  sheer  misery  to  untangle 
picket  lines  and  to  pack  animals  when  the  ropes  are 
frozen ;  and  by  the  time  we  had  loaded  the  two  shiv 
ering,  wincing  pack-ponies,  and  had  bridled  and 
saddled  our  own  riding-animals,  our  hands  and  feet 
were  numb  and  stiff  with  cold,  though  we  were 
really  hampered  by  our  warm  clothing.  My  horse 


234  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

was  a  wild,  nervous  roan,  and  as  I  swung  carelessly 
into  the  saddle,  he  suddenly  began  to  buck  before  I 
got  my  right  leg  over,  and  threw  me  off.  My 
thumb  was  put  out  of  joint.  I  pulled  it  in  again, 
and  speedily  caught  my  horse  in  the  dead  timber. 
Then  I  treated  him  as  what  the  cowboys  call  a 
"mean  horse/'  and  mounted  him  carefully,  so  as 
not  to  let  him  either  buck  or  go  over  backward. 
However,  his  preliminary  success  had  inspirited  him, 
and  a  dozen  times  that  day  he  began  to  buck,  usual 
ly  choosing  a  down  grade,  where  the  snow  was  deep, 
and  there  was  much  fallen  timber. 

All  day  long  we  pushed  steadily  through  the  cold, 
blinding  snowstorm.  Neither  squirrels  nor  rabbits 
were  abroad;  and  a  few  Clark's  crows, whiskey- jacks 
and  chickadees  were  the  only  living  things  we  saw. 
At  nightfall,  chilled  through,  we  reached  the  Upper 
Geyser  Basin.  Here  I  met  a  party  of  railroad  sur 
veyors  and  engineers,  coming  in  from  their  summer's 
field  work.  One  of  them  lent  me  a  saddle-horse  and 
a  pack-pony,  and  we  went  on  together,  breaking  our 
way  through  the  snow-choked  roads  to  the  Mam 
moth  Hot  Springs,  while  Hofer  took  my  own 
horses  back  to  Ferguson. 

I  have  described  this  hunt  at  length  because, 
though  I  enjoyed  it  particularly  on  account  of  the 
comfort  in  which  we  traveled  and  the  beauty  of  the 
land,  yet,  in  point  of  success  in  finding  and  killing 
game,  in  value  of  trophies  procured,  and  in  its  al- 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     235 

ternations  of  good  and  bad  luck,  it  may  fairly  stand 
as  the  type  of  a  dozen  such  hunts  I  have  made. 
Twice  I  have  been  much  more  successful;  the  dif 
ference  being  due  to  sheer  luck,  as  I  hunted  equally 
hard  in  all  three  instances.  Thus  on  this  trip  I 
killed  and  saw  nothing  but  elk;  yet  the  other  mem 
bers  of  the  party  either  saw,  or  saw  fresh  signs  of, 
not  only  blacktail  deer,  but  sheep,  bear,  bison,  moose, 
cougar,  and  wolf.  Now  in  1889  ^  hunted  over  al 
most  precisely  similar  country,  only  further  to  the 
northwest,  on  the  boundary  between  Idaho  and 
Montana,  and,  with  the  exception  of  sheep,  I  stum 
bled  on  all  the  animals  mentioned,  and  white  goat 
in  addition,  so  that  my  bag  of  twelve  head  actually 
included  eight  species — much  the  best  bag  I  ever 
made,  and  the  only  one  that  could  really  be  called 
out  of  the  common.  In  1884,  on  a  trip  to  the  Big 
horn  Mountains,  I  killed  three  bear,  six  elk  and 
six  deer.  In  laying  in  the  winter  stock  of  meat  for 
my  ranch  I  often  far  excelled  these  figures  as  far 
as  mere  numbers  went;  but  on  no  other  regular 
hunting  trip,  where  the  quality  and  not  the  quantity 
of  the  game  was  the  prime  consideration,  have  I 
ever  equaled  them ;  and  on  several  where  I  worked 
hardest  I  hardly  averaged  a  head  a  week.  The 
occasional  days  or  weeks  of  phenomenal  luck  are 
more  than  earned  by  the  many  others  where  no 
luck  whatever  follows  the  very  hardest  work.  Yet 
if  a  man  hunts  with  steady  resolution  he  is  apt  to 


236  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

strike  enough  Incky  days  amply  to  repay  him  for 
his  trouble. 

On  this  Shoshone  trip  I  fired  fifty-eight  shots. 
In  preference  to  using  the  knife  I  generally  break 
the  neck  of  an  elk  which  is  still  struggling;  and  I 
fire  at  one  as  long  as  it  can  stand,  preferring  to  waste 
a  few  extra  bullets,  rather  than  see  an  occasional 
head  of  game  escape.  In  consequence  of  these  two 
traits  the  nine  elk  I  got  (two  running  at  sixty  and 
eighty  yards,  the  others  standing,  at  from  thirty  to 
a  hundred)  cost  me  twenty-three  bullets;  and  I 
missed  three  shots — all  three,  it  is  but  fair  to  say, 
difficult  ones.  I  also  cut  off  the  heads  of  seventeen 
grouse,  with  twenty-two  shots ;  and  killed  two  ducks 
with  ten  shots — fifty-eight  in  all.  On  the  Bighorn 
trip  I  used  a  hundred  and  two  cartridges.  On  no 
other  trip  did  I  use  fifty. 

To  me  still-hunting  elk  in  the  mountains,  when 
they  are  calling,  is  one  of  the  most  attractive  of 
sports,  not  only  because  of  the  size  and  stately  beauty 
of  the  quarry  and  the  grand  nature  of  the  trophy. 
but  because  of  the  magnificence  of  the  scenery,  and 
the  stirring,  manly,  exciting  nature  of  the  chase  it 
self.  It  yields  more  vigorous  enjoyment  than  does 
lurking  stealthily  through  the  grand  but  gloomy 
monotony  of  the  marshy  woodland  where  dwells  the 
moose.  The  climbing  among  the  steep  forest-clad 
and  glade-strewn  mountains  is  just  difficult  enough 
thoroughly  to  test  soundness  in  wind  and  limb,  while 


An  Elk-Hunt  at  Two-Ocean  Pass     237 

without  the  heart-breaking  fatigue  of  white-goat 
hunting.  The  actual  grapple  with  an  angry  grisly 
is  of  course  far  more  full  of  strong,  eager  pleasure ; 
but  bear  hunting  is  the  most  uncertain,  and  usually 
the  least  productive,  of  sports. 

As  regards  strenuous,  vigorous  work,  and  pleas 
urable  excitement,  the  chase  of  the  bighorn  alone 
stands  higher.  But  the  bighorn,  grand  beast  of  the 
chase  though  he  be,  is  surpassed  in  size,  both  of  body 
and  of  horns,  by  certain  of  the  giant  sheep  of  Cen 
tral  Asia;  whereas  the  wapiti  is  not  only  the  most 
stately  and  beautiful  of  American  game — far  more 
so  than  the  bison  and  moose,  his  only  rivals  in  size 
— but  is  also  the  noblest  of  the  stag  kind  throughout 
the  world.  Whoever  kills  him  has  killed  the  chief 
of  his  race;  for  he  stands  far  above  his  brethren  of 
Asia  and  Europe. 


CHAPTER    XI 

THE    MOOSE;    THE    BEAST    OF   THE    WOODLAND 

THE  moose  is  the  giant  of  all  deer;  and  many 
hunters  esteem  it  the  noblest  of  American  game. 
Beyond  question  there  are  few  trophies  more  prized 
than  the  huge  shovel  horns  of  this  strange  dweller 
in  the  cold  northland  forests. 

I  shot  my  first  moose  after  making  several  fruit 
less  hunting  trips  with  this  special  game  in  view. 
The  season  I  finally  succeeded  it  was  only  after  hav 
ing  hunted  two  or  three  weeks  in  vain,  among  the 
Bitter  Root  Mountains,  and  the  ranges  lying  south 
east  of  them. 

I  began  about  the  first  of  September  by  making  a 
trial  with  my  old  hunting  friend  Willis.  We  speed 
ily  found  a  country  where  there  were  moose,  but  of 
the  animals  themselves  we  never  caught  a  glimpse. 
We  tried  to  kill  them  by  hunting  in  the  same  manner 
that  we  hunted  elk ;  that  is,  by  choosing  a  place  where 
there  was  sign,  and  going  carefully  through  it 
against  or  across  the  wind.  However,  this  plan 
failed;  though  at  that  very  time  we  succeeded  in 
killing  elk  in  this  way,  devoting  one  or  two  days 
to  their  pursuit.  There  were  both  elk  and  moose 
in  the  country,  but  they  were  usually  found  in  differ- 
(238) 


The  Moose  239 

ent  kinds  of  ground,  though  often  close  alongside 
one  another.  The  former  went  in  herds,  the  cows, 
calves,  and  yearlings  by  themselves,  and  they  roamed 
through  the  higher  and  more  open  forests,  well  up 
toward  timber  line.  The  moose,  on  the  contrary, 
were  found  singly  or  in  small  parties  composed  at 
the  outside  of  a  bull,  a  cow,  and  her  young  of  two 
years ;  for  the  moose  is  practically  monogamous,  in 
strong  contrast  to  the  highly  polygamous  wapiti  and 
caribou. 

The  moose  did  not  seem  to  care  much  whether 
they  lived  among  the  summits  of  the  mountains  or 
not,  so  long  as  they  got  the  right  kind  of  country; 
for  they  were  much  more  local  in  their  distribution, 
and  at  this  season  less  given  to  wandering  than  their 
kin  with  round  horns.  What  they  wished  was  a 
cool,  swampy  region  of  very  dense  growth;  in  the 
main  chains  of  the  northern  Rockies  even  the  val 
leys  are  high  enough  to  be  cold.  Of  course  many 
of  the  moose  lived  on  the  wooded  summits  of  the 
lower  ranges;  and  most  of  them  came  down  lower 
in  winter  than  in  summer,  following  about  a  fort 
night  after  the  elk;  but  if  in  a  large  tract  of  woods 
the  cover  was  dense  and  the  ground  marshy,  though 
it  was  in  a  valley  no  higher  than  the  herds  of  the 
ranchmen  grazed,  or  perchance  even  in  the  immedi 
ate  neighborhood  of  a  small  frontier  hamlet,  then  it 
might  be  chosen  by  some  old  bull  who  wished  to  lie 
in  seclusion  till  his  horns  were  grown,  or  by  some 


240  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

cow  with  a  calf  to  raise.  Before  settlers  came  to  this 
high  mountain  region  of  western  Montana,  a  moose 
would  often  thus  live  in  an  isolated  marshy  tract  sur 
rounded  by  open  country.  They  grazed  throughout 
the  summer  on  marsh  plants,  notably  lily  stems,  and 
nibbled  at  the  tops  of  the  very  tall  natural  hay  of  the 
meadows.  The  legs  of  the  beast  are  too  long  and 
the  neck  too  short  to  allow  it  to  graze  habitually  on 
short  grass ;  yet  in  the  early  spring  when  greedy  for 
the  tender  blades  of  young,  green  marsh  grass,  the 
moose  will  often  shuffle  down  on  its  knees  to  get  at 
them,  and  it  will  occasionally  perform  the  same  feat 
to  get  a  mouthful  or  two  of  snow  in  winter. 

The  moose  which  lived  in  isolated,  exposed  locali 
ties  were  speedily  killed  or  driven  away  after  the 
incoming  of  settlers ;  and  at  the  time  that  we  hunted 
we  found  no  sign  of  them  until  we  reached  the  re 
gion  of  continuous  forest.  Here,  in  a  fortnight's 
hunting,  we  found  as  much  sign  as  we  wished,  and 
plenty  of  it  fresh;  but  the  animals  themselves  we 
not  only  never  saw,  but  we  never  so  much  as  heard. 
Often  after  hours  of  careful  still-hunting  or  cautious 
tracking,  we  found  the  footprints  deep  in  the  soft 
earth,  showing  where  our  quarry  had  winded  or 
heard  us,  and  had  noiselessly  slipped  away  from  the 
danger.  It  is  astonishing  how  quietly  a  moose  can 
steal  through  the  woods  if  it  wishes:  and  it  has 
what  is  to  the  hunter  a  very  provoking  habit  of 
making  a  half  or  three-quarters  circle  before  lying 


The  Moose  241 

down,  and  then  crouching  with  its  head  so  turned 
that  it  can  surely  perceive  any  pursuer  who  may 
follow  its  trail.  We  tried  every  method  to  outwit 
the  beasts.  We  attempted  to  track  them;  we  beat 
through  likely  spots;  sometimes  we  merely  "sat  on 
a  log"  and  awaited  events,  by  a  drinking  hole, 
meadow,  mud  wallow,  or  other  such  place  (a  course 
of  procedure  which  often  works  well  in  still-hunt 
ing)  ;  but  all  in  vain. 

Our  main  difficulty  lay  in  the  character  of  the 
woods  which  the  moose  haunted.  They  were  choked 
and  tangled  to  the  last  degree,  consisting  of  a  mass 
of  thick-growing  conifers,  with  dead  timber  strewn 
in  every  direction,  and  young  growth  filling  the 
spaces  between  the  trunks.  We  could  not  see  twenty 
yards  ahead  of  us,  and  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
walk  without  making  a  noise.  Elk  were  occasion 
ally  found  in  these  same  places;  but  usually  they 
frequented  more  open  timber,  where  the  hunting 
was  beyond  comparison  easier.  Perhaps  more  ex 
perienced  hunters  would  have  killed  their  game; 
though  in  such  cover  the  best  tracker  and  still-hunter 
alive  can  not  always  reckon  on  success  with  really 
wary  animals.  But,  be  this  as  it  may,  we,  at  any 
rate,  were  completely  baffled,  and  I  began  to  think 
that  this  moose-hunt,  like  all  my  former  ones,  was 
doomed  to  end  in  failure. 

However,  a  few  days  later  I  met  a  crabbed  old 
trapper  named  Hank  Griffin,  who  was  going  after 

11  VOL.  II. 


242  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

beaver  in  the  mountains,  and  who  told  me  that  if  I 
would  come  with  him  he  would  show  me  moose. 
I  jumped  at  the  chance,  and  he  proved  as  good  as 
his  word ;  though  for  the  first  two  trials  rny  ill-luck 
did  not  change. 

At  the  time  that  it  finally  did  change  we  had  at 
last  reached  a  place  where  the  moose  were  on  favor 
able  ground.  A  high,  marshy  valley  stretched  for 
several  miles  between  two  rows  of  stony  mountains, 
clad  with  a  forest  of  rather  small  fir-trees.  This 
valley  was  covered  with  reeds,  alders,  and  rank 
grass,  and  studded  with  little  willow-bordered  ponds 
and  island-like  clumps  of  spruce  and  graceful  tama 
racks. 

Having  surveyed  the  ground  and  found  moose 
sign  the  preceding  afternoon,  we  were  up  betimes 
in  the  cool  morning  to  begin  our  hunt.  Before  sun 
rise  we  were  posted  on  a  rocky  spur  of  the  foothills, 
behind  a  mask  of  evergreens;  ourselves  unseen  we 
overlooked  all  the  valley,  and  we  knew  we  could  see 
any  animal  which  might  be  either  feeding  away 
from  cover  or  on  its  journey  homeward  from  its 
feeding  ground  to  its  day-bed. 

As  it  grew  lighter  we  scanned  the  valley  with 
increasing  care  and  eagerness.  The  sun  rose  behind 
us;  and  almost  as  soon  as  it  was  up  we  made  out 
some  large  beast  moving  among  the  dwarf  willows 
beside  a  little  lake  half  a  mile  in  our  front.  In  a 
few  minutes  the  thing  walked  out  where  the  bushes 


The  Moose  243 

were  thinner,  and  we  saw  that  it  was  a  young  bull 
moose  browsing  on  the  willow  tops.  He  had  evi 
dently  nearly  finished  his  breakfast,  and  he  stood 
idly  for  some  moments,  now  and  then  lazily  crop 
ping  a  mouthful  of  twig  tips.  Then  he  walked  off 
with  great  strides  in  a  straight  line  across  the  marsh, 
splashing  among  the  wet  water-plants,  and  plowing 
through  boggy  spaces  with  the  indifference  begotten 
of  vast  strength  and  legs  longer  than  those  of  any 
other  animal  on  this  continent.  At  times  he  en 
tered  beds  of  reeds  which  hid  him  from  view, 
though  their  surging  and  bending  showed  the  wake 
of  his  passage;  at  other  times  he  walked  through 
meadows  of  tall,  grass,  the  withered  yellow  stalks 
rising  to  his  flanks,  while  his  body  loomed  above 
them,  glistening  black  and  wet  in  the  level  sunbeams. 
Once  he  stopped  for  a  few  moments  on  a  rise  of  dry 
ground,  seemingly  to  enjoy  the  heat  of  the  young 
sun ;  he  stood  motionless,  save  that  his  ears  were  con 
tinually  pricked,  and  his  head  sometimes  slightly 
turned,  showing  that  even  in  this  remote  land  he 
was  on  the  alert.  Once,  with  a  somewhat  awkward 
motion,  he  reached  his  hind  leg  forward  to  scratch 
his  neck.  Then  he  walked  forward  again  into  the 
marsh;  where  the  water  was  quite  deep  he  broke 
into  the  long,  stretching,  springy  trot,  which  forms 
the  characteristic  gait  of  his  kind,  churning  the 
marsh  water  into  foam.  He  held  his  head  straight 
forward,  the  antlers  resting  on  his  shoulders. 


244  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

After  a  while  he  reached  a  spruce  island,  through 
which  he  walked  to  and  fro;  but  evidently  could 
find  therein  no  resting-place  quite  to  his  mind,  for 
he  soon  left  and  went  on  to  another.  Here  after  a 
little  wandering  he  chose  a  point  where  there  was 
some  thick  young  growth,  which  hid  him  from  view 
when  he  lay  down,  though  not  when  he  stood.  Af 
ter  some  turning  he  settled  himself  in  his  bed  just 
as  a  steer  would. 

He  could  not  have  chosen  a  spot  better  suited  for 
us.  He  was  nearly  at  the  edge  of  the  morass,  the 
open  space  between  the  spruce  clump  where  he  was 
lying  and  the  rocky  foothills  being  comparatively 
dry  and  not  much  over  a  couple  of  hundred  yards 
broad ;  while  some  sixty  yards  from  it,  and  between 
it  and  the  hills,  was  a  little  hummock,  tufted  with 
firs,  so  as  to  afford  us  just  the  cover  we  needed. 
Keeping  back  from  the  edge  of  the  morass  we  were 
able  to  walk  upright  through  the  forest,  until  we 
got  the  point  where  he  was  lying  in  a  line  with  this 
little  hummock.  We  then  dropped  on  our  hands 
and  knees,  and  crept  over  the  soft,  wet  sward,  where 
there  was  nothing  to  make  a  noise.  Wherever  the 
ground  rose  at  all  we  crawled  flat  on  our  bellies. 
The  air  was  still,  for  it  was  a  very  calm  morning. 

At  last  we  reached  the  hummock,  and  I  got  into 
position  for  a  shot,  taking  a  final  look  at  my  faithful 
45-90  Winchester  to  see  that  all  was  in  order.  Peer 
ing  cautiously  through  the  shielding  evergreens,  I 


The  Moose  245 

at  first  could  not  make  out  where  the  moose  was  ly 
ing,  until  my  eye  was  caught  by  the  motion  of  his 
big  ears,  as  he  occasionally  flapped  them  lazily  for 
ward.  Even  then  I  could  not  see  his  outline;  but  I 
knew  where  he  was,  and  having  pushed  my  rifle  for 
ward  on  the  moss,  I  snapped  a  dry  twig  to  make  him 
rise.  My  veins  were  thrilling  and  my  heart  beating 
with  that  eager,  fierce  excitement,  known  only  to  the 
hunter  of  big  game,  and  forming  one  of  the  keenest 
and  strongest  of  the  many  pleasures  which  with  him 
go  to  make  up  "the  wild  joy  of  living." 

As  the  sound  of  the  snapping  twig  smote  his  ears 
the  moose  rose  nimbly  to  his  feet,  with  a  lightness 
on  which  one  would  not  have  reckoned  in  a  beast 
so  heavy  of  body.  He  stood  broadside  to  me  for  a 
moment,  his  ungainly  head  slightly  turned,  while  his 
ears  twitched  and  his  nostrils  snuffed  the  air.  Draw 
ing  a  fine  bead  against  his  black  hide,  behind  his 
shoulder  and  two-thirds  of  his  body's  depth  below 
his  shaggy  withers,  I  pressed  the  trigger.  He 
neither  flinched  nor  reeled,  but  started  with  his  reg 
ular  ground-covering  trot  through  the  spruces;  yet 
I  knew  he  was  mine,  for  the  light  blood  sprang  from 
both  of  his  nostrils,  and  he  fell  dying  on  his  side 
before  he  had  gone  thirty  rods. 

Later  in  the  fall  I  was  again  hunting  among  the 
lofty  ranges  which  continue  toward  the  southeast 
the  chain  of  the  Bitter  Root,  between  Idaho  and 
Montana.  There  were  but  two  of  us,  and  we  were 


246  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

traveling  very  light,  each  having  but  one  pack-pony 
and  the  saddle  animal  he  bestrode.  We  were  high 
among  the  mountains,  and  followed  no  regular  trail. 
Hence  our  course  was  often  one  of  extreme  diffi 
culty.  Occasionally,  we  took  our  animals  through 
the  forest  near  timber  line,  where  the  slopes  were 
not  too  steep;  again  we  threaded  our  way  through 
a  line  of  glades,  or  skirted  the  foothills,  in  an  open, 
park  country;  and  now  and  then  we  had  to  cross 
stretches  of  tangled  mountain  forest,  making  but 
a  few  miles  a  day,  at  the  cost  of  incredible  toil,  and 
accomplishing  even  this  solely  by  virtue  of  the  won 
derful  docility  and  sure-footedness  of  the  ponies, 
and  of  my  companion's  skill  with  the  axe  and  thor 
ough  knowledge  of  the  woodcraft. 

Late  one  cold  afternoon  we  came  out  in  a  high 
alpine  valley  in  which  there  was  no  sign  of  any 
man's  having  ever  been  before  us.  Down  its  middle 
ran  a  clear  brook.  On  each  side  was  a  belt  of  thick 
spruce  forest,  covering  the  lower  flanks  of  the  moun 
tains.  The  trees  came  down  in  points  and  isolated 
clumps  to  the  brook,  the  banks  of  which  were  thus 
bordered  with  open  glades,  rendering  the  traveling 
easy  and  rapid. 

Soon  after  starting  up  this  valley  we  entered  a 
beaver  meadow  of  considerable  size.  It  was  cov 
ered  with  lush,  rank  grass,  and  the  stream  wound 
through  it  rather  sluggishly  in  long  curves,  which 
were  fringed  by  a  thick  growth  of  dwarfed  willows. 


The  Moose  247 

In  one  or  two  places  it  broadened  into  small  ponds, 
bearing  a  few  lily-pads.  This  meadow  had  been  all 
tramped  up  by  moose.  Trails  led  hither  and  thither 
through  the  grass,  the  willow  twigs  were  cropped 
off,  and  the  muddy  banks  of  the  little  black  ponds 
were  indented  by  hoof-marks.  Evidently  most  of 
the  lilies  had  been  plucked.  The  footprints  were 
unmistakable ;  a  moose's  foot  is  longer  and  slimmer 
than  a  caribou's,  while  on  the  other  hand  it  is  much 
larger  than  an  elk's,  and  a  longer  oval  in  shape. 

Most  of  the  sign  was  old,  this  high  alpine  meadow, 
surrounded  by  snow  mountains,  having  clearly  been 
a  favorite  resort  for  moose  in  the  summer;  but 
some  enormous,  fresh  tracks  told  that  one  or  more 
old  bulls  were  still  frequenting  the  place. 

The  light  was  already  fading,  and,  of  course,  we 
did  not  wish  to  camp  where  we  were,  because  we 
would  then  certainly  scare  the  moose.  Accordingly 
we  pushed  up  the  valley  for  another  mile,  through 
an  open  forest,  the  ground  being  quite  free  from 
underbrush  and  dead  timber,  and  covered  with  a 
carpet  of  thick  moss,  in  which  the  feet  sank  noise 
lessly.  Then  we  came  to  another  beaver-meadow, 
which  offered  fine  feed  for  the  ponies.  On  its  edge 
we  hastily  pitched  camp,  just  at  dusk.  We  tossed 
down  the  packs  in  a  dry  grove,  close  to  the  brook, 
and  turned  the  tired  ponies  loose  in  the  meadow, 
hobbling  the  little  mare  that  carried  the  bell.  The 
ground  was  smooth.  We  threw  a  cross-pole  from 


248  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

one  to  the  other  of  two  young  spruces,  which  hap 
pened  to  stand  handily,  and  from  it  stretched  and 
pegged  out  a  piece  of  canvas,  which  we  were  using 
as  a  shelter  tent.  Beneath  this  we  spread  our  bed 
ding,  laying  under  it  the  canvas  sheets  in  which  it 
had  been  wrapped.  There  was  still  bread  left  over 
from  yesterday's  baking,  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
kettle  was  boiling  and  the  frying-pan  sizzling,  while 
one  of  us  skinned  and  cut  into  suitable  pieces  two 
grouse  we  had  knocked  over  on  our  march.  For 
fear  of  frightening  the  moose  we  built  but  a  small 
fire,  and  went  to  bed  soon  after  supper,  being  both 
tired  and  cold.  Fortunately,  what  little  breeze  there 
was  blew  up  the  valley. 

At  dawn  I  was  awake,  and  crawled  out  of  my 
buffalo  bag,  shivering  and  yawning.  My  compan 
ion  still  slumbered  heavily.  White  frost  covered 
whatever  had  been  left  outside.  The  cold  was  sharp, 
and  I  hurriedly  slipped  a  pair  of  stout  moccasins  on 
my  feet,  drew  on  my  gloves  and  cap,  and  started 
through  the  ghostly  woods  for  the  meadow  where 
we  had  seen  the  moose  sign.  The  tufts  of  grass 
were  stiff  with  frost;  black  ice  skimmed  the  edges 
and  quiet  places  of  the  little  brook. 

I  walked  slowly,  it  being  difficult  not  to  make  a 
noise  by  cracking  sticks  or  brushing  against  trees, 
in  the  gloom;  but  the  forest  was  so  open  that  it 
favored  me.  When  I  reached  the  edge  of  the  beaver- 
meadow  it  was  light  enough  to  shoot,  though  the 


The  Moose  249 

front  sight  still  glimmered  indistinctly.  Streaks  of 
cold  red  showed  that  the  sun  would  soon  rise. 

Before  leaving  the  shelter  of  the  last  spruces  I 
halted  to  listen;  and  almost  immediately  heard  a 
curious  splashing  sound  from  the  middle  of  the 
meadow,  where  the  brook  broadened  into  small 
willow-bordered  pools.  I  knew  at  once  that  a  moose 
was  in  one  of  these  pools,  wading  about  and  pulling 
up  the  water  lilies  by  seizing  their  slippery  stems  in 
his  lips,  plunging  his  head  deep  under  water  to  do 
so.  The  moose  love  to  feed  in  this  way  in  the  hot 
months,  when  they  spend  all  the  time  they  can  in 
the  water,  feeding  or  lying  down ;  nor  do  they  alto 
gether  abandon  the  habit  even  when  the  weather  is 
so  cold  that  icicles  form  in  their  shaggy  coats. 

Crouching,  I  stole  noiselessly  along  the  edge  of 
the  willow-thicket.  The  stream  twisted  through  it 
from  side  to  side  in  zigzags,  so  that  every  few  rods 
I  got  a  glimpse  down  a  lane  of  black  water.  In  a 
minute  I  heard  a  slight  splashing  near  me;  and  on 
passing  the  next  point  of  bushes,  I  saw  the  shad 
owy  outline  of  the  moose's  hindquarters,  standing 
in  a  bend  of  the  water.  In  a  moment  he  walked 
onward,  disappearing.  I  ran  forward  a  couple  of 
rods,  and  then  turned  in  among  the  willows,  to 
reach  the  brook  where  it  again  bent  back  toward 
me.  The  splashing  in  the  water,  and  the  rust 
ling  of  the  moose's  body  against  the  frozen  twigs, 
drowned  the  noise  made  by  my  moccasined  feet. 


250  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

I  strode  out  on  the  bank  at  the  lower  end  of  a 
long,  narrow  pool  of  water,  dark  and  half  frozen. 
In  this  pool,  half  way  down  and  facing  me,  but 
a  score  of  yards  off,  stood  the  mighty  marsh  beast, 
strange  and  uncouth  in  look  as  some  monster  sur 
viving  over  from  the  Pliocene.  His  vast  bulk 
loomed  black  and  vague  in  the  dim  gray  dawn; 
his  huge  antlers  stood  out  sharply ;  columns  of  steam 
rose  from  his  nostrils.  For  several  seconds  he 
fronted  me  motionless ;  then  he  began  to  turn,  slow 
ly,  and  as  if  he  had  a  stiff  neck.  When  quarter 
way  round  I  fired  into  his  shoulder;  whereat  he 
reared  and  bounded  on  the  bank  with  a  great  leap, 
vanishing  in  the  willows.  Through  these  I  heard 
him  crash  like  a  whirlwind  for  a  dozen  rods;  then 
'down  he  fell,  and  when  I  reached  the  spot  he  had 
ceased  to  struggle.  The  ball  had  gone  through 
his  heart. 

When  a  moose  is  thus  surprised  at  close  quarters, 
it  will  often  stand  at  gaze  for  a  moment  or  two, 
and  then  turn  stiffly  around  until  headed  in  the  right 
direction ;  once  thus  headed  aright  it  starts  off  with 
extraordinary  speed. 

The  flesh  of  the  moose  is  very  good ;  though  some 
deem  it  coarse.  Old  hunters,  who  always  like  rich, 
greasy  food,  rank  the  moose's  nose  with  a  beaver's 
tail,  as  the  chief  of  backwood  delicacies;  personally 
I  never  liked  either.  The  hide  of  the  moose,  like 
the  hide  of  the  elk,  is  of  very  poor  quality,  much 


The  Moose  251 

inferior  to  ordinary  buckskin;  caribou  hide  is  the 
best  of  all,  especially  when  used  as  webbing  for 
snowshoes. 

The  moose  is  very  fond  of  frequenting  swampy 
woods  throughout  the  summer,  and  indeed  late  into 
the  fall.  These  swampy  woods  are  not  necessarily 
in  the  lower  valleys,  some  being  found  very  high 
among  the  mountains.  By  preference  it  haunts 
those  containing  lakes,  where  it  can  find  the  long 
lily-roots  of  which  it  is  so  fond,  and  where  it  can 
escape  the  torment  of  the  mosquitoes  and  deer-flies 
by  lying  completely  submerged  save  for  its  nostrils. 
It  is  a  bold  and  good  swimmer,  readily  crossing 
lakes  of  large  size;  but  it  is  of  course  easily  slain 
if  discovered  by  canoe-men  while  in  the  water.  It 
travels  well  through  bogs,  but  not  as  well  as  the 
caribou ;  and  it  will  not  venture  on  ice  at  all  if  it  can 
possibly  avoid  it. 

After  the  rut  begins  the  animals  roam  everywhere 
through  the  woods;  and  where  there  are  hardwood 
forests  the  winter-yard  is  usually  made  among  them, 
on  high  ground,  away  from  the  swamps.  In  the 
mountains  the  deep  snows  drive  the  moose,  like 
all  other  game,  down  to  the  lower  valleys,  in  hard 
winters.  In  the  summer  it  occasionally  climbs  to 
the  very  summits  of  the  wooded  ranges,  to  escape 
the  flies;  and  it  is  said  that  in  certain  places  where 
wolves  are  plenty  the  cows  retire  to  the  tops  of  the 
mountains  to  calve.  More  often,  however,  they 


The  Wilderness  Hunter 


select  some  patch  of  very  dense  cover,  in  a  swamp 
or  by  a  lake,  for  this  purpose.  Their  ways  of  life 
of  course  vary  with  the  nature  of  the  country  they 
frequent.  In  the  towering  chains  of  the  Rockies, 
clad  in  sombre  and  unbroken  evergreen  forests,  their 
habits,  in  regard  to  winter  and  summer  homes,  and 
choice  of  places  of  seclusion  for  cows  with  young 
calves  and  bulls  growing  their  antlers,  differ  from 
those  of  their  kind  which  haunt  the  comparatively 
low,  hilly,  lake-studded  country  of  Maine  and  Nova 
Scotia,  where  the  forests  are  of  birch,  beech,  and 
maple,  mixed  with  pine,  spruce,  and  hemlock. 

The  moose  being  usually  monogamous  is  never 
found  in  great  herds  like  the  wapiti  and  caribou. 
Occasionally  a  troop  of  fifteen  or  twenty  individuals 
may  be  seen,  but  this  is  rare  ;  more  often  it  is  found 
singly,  in  pairs,  or  in  family  parties,  composed  of  a 
bull,  a  cow,  and  two  or  more  calves  and  yearlings. 
In  yarding,  two  or  more  such  families  may  unite  to 
spend  the  winter  together  in  an  unusually  attractive 
locality;  and  during  the  rut  many  bulls  are  some 
times  found  together,  perhaps  following  the  trail  of 
a  cow  in  single  file. 

In  the  fall,  winter,  and  early  spring,  and  in  cer 
tain  places  during  summer,  the  moose  feeds  princi 
pally  by  browsing,  though  always  willing  to  vary  its 
diet  by  mosses,  lichens,  fungi,  and  ferns.  In  the 
Eastern  forests,  with  their  abundance  of  hardwood, 
the  birch,  maple,  and  moose-wood  form  its  favorite 


The  Moose  253 

food.  In  the  Rocky  Mountains,  where  the  forests 
are  almost  purely  evergreen,  it  feeds  on  such  wil 
lows,  alders,  and  aspens  as  it  can  find,  and  also,  when 
pressed  by  necessity,  on  balsam,  fir,  spruce,  and  very 
young  pine.  It  peels  the  bark  between  its  hard  pal 
ate  and  sharp  lower  teeth,  to  a  height  of  seven  or 
eight  feet;  these  "peelings"  form  conspicuous  moose 
signs.  It  crops  the  juicy,  budding  twigs  and  stem- 
tops  to  the  same  height ;  and  if  the  tree  is  too  tall  it 
"rides"  it,  that  is,  straddles  the  slender  trunk  with 
its  forelegs,  pushing  it  over  and  walking  up  it  until 
the  desired  branches  are  within  reach.  No  beast  is 
more  destructive  to  the  young  growth  of  a  forest 
than  the  moose.  Where  much  persecuted  it  feeds 
in  the  late  evening,  early  morning,  and  by  moon 
light.  Where  rarely  disturbed  it  passes  the  day 
much  as  cattle  do,  alternately  resting  and  feeding 
for  two  or  three  hours  at  a  time. 

Young  moose,  when  caught,  are  easily  tamed,  and 
are  very  playful,  delighting  to  gallop  to  and  fro, 
kicking,  striking,  butting,  and  occasionally  making 
grotesque  faces.  As  they  grow  old  they  are  apt 
to  become  dangerous,  and  even  their  play  takes  the 
form  of  a  mock  fight.  Some  lumbermen  I  knew  on 
the  Aroostook,  in  Maine,  once  captured  a  young 
moose,  and  put  it  in  a  pen  of  logs.  A  few  days 
later  they  captured  another,  somewhat  smaller,  and 
put  it  in  the  same  pen,  thinking  the  first  would  be 
grateful  at  having  a  companion.  But  if  it  was  it 


254  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

dissembled  its  feelings,  for  it  promptly  fell  on  the 
unfortunate  new-comer  and  killed  it  before  it  could 
be  rescued. 

During  the  rut  the  bulls  seek  the  cows  far  and 
wide,  uttering  continually  throughout  the  night  a 
short,  loud  roar,  which  can  be  heard  at  a  distance 
of  four  or  five  miles;  the  cows  now  and  then  re 
spond  with  low,  plaintive  bellows.  The  bulls  also 
thrash  the  tree  trunks  with  their  horns,  and  paw  big 
holes  in  soft  ground ;  and  when  two  rivals  come  to 
gether  at  this  season  they  fight  with  the  most  des 
perate  fury.  It  is  chiefly  in  these  battles  with  one 
another  that  the  huge  antlers  are  used;  in  contend 
ing  with  other  foes  they  strike  terrible  blows  with 
their  fore  hoofs  and  also  sometimes  lash  out  behind 
like  a  horse.  The  bear  occasionally  makes  a  prey 
of  the  moose ;  the  cougar  is  a  more  dangerous  enemy 
in  the  few  districts  where  both  animals  are  found 
at  all  plentifully;  but  next  to  man  its  most  dreaded 
foe  is  the  big  timber  wolf,  that  veritable  scourge 
of  all  animals  of  the  deer  kind.  Against  all  of  these 
the  moose  defends  itself  valiantly;  a  cow  with  a  calf 
and  a  rutting  bull  being  especially  dangerous  op 
ponents.  In  deep  snows  through  which  the  great 
deer  flounders  while  its  adversary  runs  lightly  on 
the  crust,  a  single  wolf  may  overcome  and  slaughter 
a  big  bull  moose;  but  with  a  fair  chance  no  one  or 
two  wolves  would  be  a  match  for  it.  Desperate 
combats  take  place  before  a  small  pack  of  wolves  can 


The  Moose  255 

master  the  shovel-horned  quarry,  unless  it  is  taken 
at  a  hopeless  disadvantage;  and  in  these  battles  the 
prowess  of  the  moose  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  it  is 
no  unusual  thing  for  it  to  kill  one  or  more  of  the 
ravenous  throng;  generally  by  a  terrific  blow  of  the 
foreleg,  smashing  a  wolf's  skull  or  breaking  its 
back.  I  have  known  of  several  instances  of  wolves 
being  found  dead,  having  perished  in  this  manner. 
Still,  the  battle  usually  ends  the  other  way,  the 
wolves  being  careful  to  make  the  attack  with  the 
odds  in  their  favor ;  and  even  a  small  pack  of  the  fe 
rocious  brutes  will  in  a  single  winter  often  drive  the 
moose  completely  out  of  a  given  district.  Both 
cougar  and  bear  generally  reckon  on  taking  the 
moose  unawares,  when  they  jump  on  it.  In 
one  case  that  came  to  my  knowledge  a  black 
bear  was  killed  by  a  cow  moose  whose  calf  he 
had  attacked. 

In  the  Northeast  a  "favorite  method  of  hunting  the 
moose  is  by  "calling"  the  bulls  in  the  rutting  season, 
at  dawn  or  nightfall ;  the  caller  imitating  their  cries 
through  a  birch-bark  trumpet.  If  the  animals  are 
at  all  wary,  this  kind  of  sport  can  only  be  carried 
on  in  still  weather,  as  the  approaching  bull  always 
tries  to  get  the  wind  of  the  caller.  It  is  also  some 
times  slain  by  fire-hunting,  from  a  canoe,  as  the  deer 
are  killed  in  the  Adirondacks.  This,  however,  is 
but  an  ignoble  sport ;  and  to  kill  the  animal  while  it 
is  swimming  in  a  lake  is  worse.  However,  there 


256  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

is  sometimes  a  spice  of  excitement  even  in  these 
unworthy  methods  of  the  chase;  for  a  truculent 
moose  will  do  its  best,  with  hoofs  and  horns,  to  up 
set  the  boat. 

The  true  way  to  kill  the  noble  beast,  however,  is 
by  fair  still-hunting.  There  is  no  grander  sport 
than  still-hunting  the  moose,  whether  in  the  vast 
pine  and  birch  forests  of  the  Northeast,  or  among 
the  stupendous  mountain  masses  of  the  Rockies. 
The  moose  has  wonderfully  keen  nose  and  ears, 
though  its  eyesight  is  not  remarkable.  Most,  hunt 
ers  assert  that  it  is  the  wariest  of  all  game,  and  the 
most  difficult  to  kill.  I  have  never  been  quite  satis 
fied  that  this  was  so ;  it  seems  to  me  that  the  nature 
of  the  ground  wherein  it  dwells  helps  it  even  more 
than  do  its  own  sharp  senses.  It  is  true  that  I  made 
many  trips  in  vain  before  killing  my  first  moose; 
but  then  I  had  to  hunt  through  tangled  timber, 
where  I  could  scarcely  move  a  step  without  noise, 
and  could  never  see  thirty  yards  ahead.  If  moose 
were  found  in  open  park-like  forests  like  those 
where  I  first  killed  elk,  on  the  Bighorn  Mountains, 
or  among  brushy  coulies  and  bare  hills,  like  the 
Little  Missouri  Bad  Lands,  where  I  first  killed  black- 
tail  deer,  I  doubt  whether  they  would  prove  espe 
cially  difficult  animals  to  bag.  My  own  experience 
is  much  too  limited  to  allow  me  to  speak  with  any 
certainty  on  the  point;  but  it  is  borne  out  by  what 
more  skilled  hunters  have  told  me.  In  the  Big 


The  Moose  257 

Hole  Basin,  in  southwest  Montana,  moose  were  quite 
plentiful  in  the  late  'seventies.  Two  or  three  of  the 
old  settlers,  whom  I  know  as  veteran  hunters  and 
trustworthy  men,  have  told  me  that  in  those  times 
the  moose  were  often  found  in  very  accessible  locali 
ties;  and  that  when  such  was  the  case  they  were 
quite  as  easily  killed  as  elk.  In  fact,  when  run 
across  by  accident  they  frequently  showed  a  certain 
clumsy  slowness  of  apprehension  which  amounted  to 
downright  stupidity.  One  of  the  most  successful 
moose-hunters  I  know  is  Col.  Cecil  Clay,  of  the  De 
partment  of  Law,  in  Washington;  he  it  was  who 
killed  the  moose  composing  the  fine  group  mounted 
by  Mr.  Hornaday,  in  the  National  Museum.  Col. 
Clay  lost  his  right  arm  in  the  Civil  War;  but  is  an 
expert  rifle  shot  nevertheless,  using  a  short,  light 
forty-four  calibre  old  style  Winchester  carbine.  With 
this  weapon  he  has  killed  over  a  score  of  moose,  by 
fair  still-hunting;  and  he  tells  me  that  on  similar 
ground  he  considers  it  if  anything  rather  less  easy 
to  still-hunt  and  kill  a  whitetail  deer  than  it  is  to 
kill  a  moose. 

My  friend  Col.  James  Jones  killed  two  moose  in 
a  day  in  northwestern  Wyoming,  not  far  from  the 
Tetons;  he  was  alone  when  he  shot  them  and  did 
not  find  them  especially  wary.  Ordinarily,  moose 
are  shot  at  fairly  close  range;  but  another  friend 
of  mine,  Mr.  E.  P.  Rogers,  once  dropped  one  with 
a  single  bullet,  at  a  distance  of  nearly  three  hundred 


258  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

yards.  This  happened  by  Bridger's  Lake,  near  Two- 
Ocean  Pass. 

The  moose  has  a  fast  walk,  and  its  ordinary  gait 
when,  going  at  any  speed  is  a  slashing  trot.  Its 
long  legs  give  it  a  wonderful  stride,  enabling  it  to 
clear  down-timber  and  high  obstacles  of  all  sorts 
without  altering  its  pace.  It  also  leaps  well.  If 
much  pressed  or  startled  it  breaks  into  an  awkward 
gallop,  which  is  quite  fast  for  a  few  hundred  yards, 
but  which  speedily  tires  it  out.  After  being  dis 
turbed  by  the  hunter  a  moose  usually  trots  a  long 
distance  before  halting. 

One  thing  which  renders  the  chase  of  the  moose 
particularly  interesting  is  the  fact  that  there  is  in 
it  on  rare  occasions  a  spice  of  peril.  Under  certain 
circumstances  it  may  be  called  dangerous  quarry, 
being,  properly  speaking,  the  only  animal  of  the  deer 
kind  which  ever  fairly  deserves  the  title.  In  a  hand 
to  hand  grapple  an  elk  or  caribou,  or  even  under 
exceptional  circumstances  a  blacktail  or  a  white- 
tail,  may  show  itself  an  ugly  antagonist;  and  indeed 
a  maddened  elk  may  for  a  moment  take  the  offensive ; 
but  the  moose  is  the  only  one  of  the  tribe  with 
which  this  attitude  is  at  all  common.  In  bodily 
strength  and  capacity  to  do  harm  it  surpasses  the 
elk;  and  in  temper  it  is  far  more  savage  and  more 
apt  to  show  fight  when  assailed  by  man;  exactly  as 
the  elk  in  these  respects  surpasses  the  common 
deer. 


The  Moose  259 

Two  hunters  with  whom  I  was  well  acquainted 
once  wintered  between  the  Wind  River  Mountains 
and  the  Three  Tetons,  many  years  ago,  in  the  days 
of  the  buffalo.  They  lived  on  game,  killing  it  on 
snowshoes;  for  the  most  part  wapiti  and  deer,  but 
also  bison,  and  one  moose,  though  they  saw  others. 
The  wapiti  bulls  kept  their  antlers  two  months 
longer  than  the  moose;  nevertheless,  when  chased 
they  rarely  made  an  effort  to  use  them,  while  the 
hornless  moose  displayed  far  more  pugnacity,  and 
also  ran  better  through  the  deep  snow.  The  winter 
was  very  severe,  the  snows  were  heavy  and  the 
crusts  hard;  so  that  the  hunters  had  little  trouble 
in  overtaking  their  game,  although — being  old 
mountain-men,  and  not  hide  hunters — they  killed 
only  what  was  needed.  Of  course  in  such  hunting 
they  came  very  close  to  the  harried  game,  usually 
after  a  chase  of  from  twenty  minutes  to  three 
hours.  They  found  that  the  ordinary  deer  would 
scarcely  charge  under  any  circumstances ;  that  among 
the  wapiti  it  was  only  now  and  then  that  individuals 
would  turn  upon  their  pursuers — though  they  some 
times  charged  boldly;  but  that  both  the  bison  and 
especially  the  moose,  when  worried  and  approached 
too  near,  would  often  turn  to  bay  and  make  charge 
after  charge  in  the  most  resolute  manner,  so  that 
they  had  to  be  approached  with  some  caution. 

Under  ordinary  conditions,  however,  there  is  very 
little  danger,  indeed,  of  a  moose  charging.  A 


26o  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

charge  does  not  take  place  once  in  a  hundred  times 
when  the  moose  is  killed  by  fair  still-hunting;  and 
it  is  altogether  exceptional  for  those  who  assail  them 
from  boats  or  canoes  to  be  put  in  jeopardy.  Even 
a  cow  moose,  with  her  calf,  will  run  if  she  has  the 
chance;  and  a  rutting  bull  will  do  the  same.  Such 
a  bull  when  wounded  may  walk  slowly  forward, 
grunting  savagely,  stamping  with  his  forefeet,  and 
slashing  the  bushes  with  his  antlers;  but,  if  his 
antagonist  is  any  distance  off,  he  rarely  actually 
runs  at  him.  Yet  there  are  now  and  then  found 
moose  prone  to  attack  on  slight  provocation;  for 
these  great  deer  differ  as  widely  as  men  in  courage 
and  ferocity.  Occasionally  a  hunter  is  charged  in 
the  fall  when  he  has  lured  the  game  to  him  by  calling, 
or  when  he  has  wounded  it  after  a  stalk.  In  one 
well-authenticated  instance  which  was  brought  to 
my  attention,  a  settler  on  the  left  bank  of  the  St. 
John,  in  New  Brunswick,  was  tramped  to  death 
by  a  bull  moose  which  he  had  called  to  him  and 
wounded.  A  New  Yorker  of  my  acquaintance, 
Dr.  Merrill,  was  charged  under  rather  peculiar  cir 
cumstances.  He  stalked  and  mortally  wounded  a 
bull  which  promptly  ran  toward  him.  Between 
them  was  a  gully  in  which  it  disappeared.  Imme 
diately  afterward,  as  he  thought,  it  reappeared  on 
his  side  of  the  gully,  and  with  a  second  shot  he 
dropped  it.  Walking  forward,  he  found  to  his 
astonishment  that  with  his  second  bullet  he  had 


The  Moose  261 

killed  a  cow  moose;  the  bull  lay  dying  in  the  gully, 
Dut  of  which  he  had  scared  the  cow  by  his  last  rush. 

However,  speaking  broadly,  the  danger  to  the 
still-hunter  engaged  in  one  of  the  legitimate  meth 
ods  of  the  chase  is  so  small  that  it  may  be  disre 
garded;  for  he  usually  kills  his  game  at  some  little 
distance,  while  the  moose,  as  a  rule,  only  attacks 
if  it  has  been  greatly  worried  and  angered,  and  if 
its  pursuer  is  close  at  hand.  When  a  moose  is 
surprised  and  shot  at  by  a  hunter  some  way  off, 
its  one  thought  is  of  flight.  Hence,  the  hunters  who 
are  charged  by  moose  are  generally  those  who  fol 
low  them  during  the  late  winter  and  early  spring, 
when  the  animals  have  yarded  and  can  be  killed  on 
snowshoes — by  "crusting,"  as  it  is  termed,  a  very 
destructive,  and  often  a  very  unsportsman-like 
species  of  chase. 

If  the  snowfall  is  very  light,  moose  do  not  yard 
at  all;  but  in  a  hard  winter  they  begin  to  make 
their  yards  in  December.  A  "yard"  is  not,  as  some 
people  seem  to  suppose,  a  trampled-down  space, 
with  definite  boundaries;  the  term  merely  denotes 
the  spot  which  a  moose  has  chosen  for  its  winter 
home,  choosing  it  because  it  contains  plenty  of 
browse  in  the  shape  of  young  trees  and  saplings, 
and  perhaps  also  because  it  is  sheltered  to  some 
extent  from  the  fierce  winds  and  heaviest  snowdrifts. 
The  animal  travels  to  and  fro  across  this  space  in 
straight  lines  and  irregular  circles  after  food,  tread- 


262  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

ing  in  its  own  footsteps,  where  practicable.  As 
the  snow  steadily  deepens,  these  lines  of  travel  be 
come  beaten  paths.  There  results  finally  a  space 
half  a  mile  square — sometimes  more,  sometimes 
very  much  less,  according  to  the  lay  of  the  land, 
and  the  number  of  moose  yarding  together — 
where  the  deep  snow  is  seamed  in  every  direction 
by  a  network  of  narrow  paths  along  which  a  moose 
can  travel  at  speed,  its  back  level  with  the  snow 
round  about.  Sometimes,  when  moose  are  very 
plentiful,  many  of  these  yards  lie  so  close  together 
that  the  beasts  can  readily  make  their  way  from 
one  to  another.  When  such  is  the  case,  the  most 
expert  snowshoer,  under  the  most  favorable  con 
ditions,  can  not  overtake  them,  for  they  can  then 
travel  very  fast  through  the  paths,  keeping  their 
gait  all  day.  In  the  early  decades  of  the  present  cen 
tury,  the  first  settlers  in  Aroostook  County,  Maine, 
while  moose-hunting  in  winter,  were  frequently  baf 
fled  in  this  manner. 

When  hunters  approach  an  isolated  yard  the 
moose  immediately  leave  it  and  run  off  through  the 
snow.  If  there  is  no  crust,  and  if  their  long  legs 
can  reach  the  ground,  the  snow  itself  impedes  them 
but  little,  because  of  their  vast  strength  and  endur 
ance.  Snowdrifts  which  render  an  ordinary  deer  ab 
solutely  helpless,  and  bring  even  an  elk  to  a  standstill, 
offer  no  impediment  whatever  to  a  moose.  If,  as 
happens  very  rarely,  the  loose  snow  is  of  such  depth 


The  Moose  263 

that  even  the  stilt-like  legs  of  the  moose  can  not 
touch  solid  earth,  it  flounders  and  struggles  for 
ward  for  a  little  time,  and  then  sinks  exhausted; 
for  a  caribou  is  the  only  large  animal  which  can 
travel  under  such  conditions.  If  there  be  a  crust, 
even  though  the  snow  is  not  remarkably  deep,  the 
labor  of  the  moose  is  vastly  increased,  as  it  breaks 
through  at  every  step,  cutting  its  legs  and  exhaust 
ing  itself.  A  caribou,  on  the  other  hand,  will  go 
across  a  crust  as  well  as  a  man  on  snowshoes,  and 
can  never  be  caught  by  the  latter,  save  under  alto 
gether  exceptional  conditions  of  snowfall  and  thaw. 

"Crusting,"  or  following  game  on  snowshoes,  is, 
as  the  name  implies,  almost  always  practiced  after 
the  middle  of  February,  when  thaws  begin,  and  the 
snow  crusts  on  top.  The  conditions  for  success  in 
crusting  moose  and  deer  are  very  different.  A  crust 
through  which  a  moose  would  break  at  every  stride 
may  carry  a  running  deer  without  mishap ;  while  the 
former  animal  would  trot  at  ease  through  drifts  in 
which  the  latter  would  be  caught  as  if  in  a  quick 
sand. 

Hunting  moose  on  snow,  therefore,  may  be,  and 
very  often  is,  mere  butchery;  and  because  of  this 
possibility  or  probability,  and  also  because  of  the 
fact  that  it  is  by  far  the  most  destructive  kind  of 
hunting,  and  is  carried  on  at  a  season  when  the 
bulls  are  hornless  and  the  cows  heavy  with  calf,  it 
is  rigidly  and  properly  forbidden  wherever  there  are 


264  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

good  game-laws.  Yet  this  kind  of  hunting  may  also 
be  carried  on  under  circumstances  which  render  it 
if  not  a  legitimate,  yet  a  most  exciting  and  manly 
sport,  only  to  be  followed  by  men  of  tried  courage, 
hardihood,  and  skill.  This  is  not  because  it  ever 
necessitates  any  skill  whatever  in  the  use  of  the 
rifle,  or  any  particular  knowledge  of  hunting-craft; 
but  because  under  the  conditions  spoken  of  the 
hunter  must  show  great  endurance  and  resolution, 
and  must  be  an  adept  in  the  use  of  snowshoes. 

It  all  depends  upon  the  depth  of  the  snow  and  the 
state  of  the  crust.  If  when  the  snow  is  very  deep 
there  comes  a  thaw,  and  if  it  then  freezes  hard, 
the  moose  are  overtaken  and  killed  with  ease;  for 
the  crust  cuts  their  legs,  they  sink  to  their  bellies  at 
every  plunge,  and  speedily  become  so  worn  out  that 
they  can  no  longer  keep  ahead  of  any  man  who  is 
even  moderately  skilful  in  the  use  of  snowshoes; 
though  they  do  not,  as  deer  so  often  do,  sink  ex 
hausted  after  going  a  few  rods  from  their  yard. 
Under  such  circumstances  a  few  hardy  hunters  or 
settlers,  who  are  perfectly  reckless  in  slaughtering 
game,  may  readily  kill  all  the  moose  in  a  district. 
It  is  a  kind  of  hunting  which  just  suits  the  ordi 
nary  settler,  who  is  hardy  and  enduring,  but  knows 
little  of  hunting-craft  proper. 

If  the  snow  is  less  deep,  or  the  crust  not  so  heavy, 
the  moose  may  travel  for  scores  of  miles  before  it 
is  overtaken;  and  this  even  though  the  crust  be 


The  Moose  265 

strong  enough  to  bear  a  man  wearing  snowshoes 
without  breaking.  The  chase  then  involves  the  most 
exhausting  fatigue.  Moreover,  it  can  be  carried 
on  only  by  those  who  are  very  skilful  in  the  use  of 
snowshoes.  These  snowshoes  are  of  two  kinds.  In 
the  Northeast,  and  in  the  most  tangled  forests  of 
the  Northwest,  the  webbed  snowshoes  are  used;  on 
the  bare  mountain-sides,  and  in  the  open  forests 
of  the  Rockies,  the  long  narrow  wooden  skees,  or 
Norwegian  snowskates,  are  preferred,  as  upon  them 
men  can  travel  much  faster,  though  they  are  less 
handy  in  thick  timber.  Having  donned  his  snow- 
shoes  and  struck  the  trail  of  a  moose,  the  hunter 
may  have  to  follow  it  three  days  if  the  snow 
is  of  only  ordinary  depth,  with  a  moderate  crust. 
He  shuffles  across  the  snow  without  halt  while  day 
light  lasts,  and  lies  down  wherever  he  happens  to 
be  when  night  strikes  him,  probably  with  a  little 
frozen  bread  as  his  only  food.  The  hunter  thus 
goes  through  inordinate  labor,  and  suffers  from  ex 
posure  ;  not  infrequently  his  feet  are  terribly  cut  by 
the  thongs  of  the  snowshoes,  and  become  sore  and 
swollen,  causing  great  pain.  When  overtaken  after 
such  a  severe  chase,  the  moose  is  usually  so  ex 
hausted  as  to  be  unable  to  make  any  resistance;  in 
all  likelihood  it  has  run  itself  to  a  standstill.  Ac 
cordingly,  the  quality  of  the  firearms  makes  but 
little  difference  in  this  kind  of  hunting.  Many  of 
the  most  famous  old  moose-hunters  of  Maine,  in 

12  VOL.  II. 


266  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

the  long  past  days,  before  the  Civil  War,  when 
moose  were  plenty  there,  used  what  were  known  as 
"three  dollar"  guns;  light,  single-barreled  smooth 
bores.  One  whom  I  knew  used  a  flint-lock  musket, 
a  relic  of  the  War  of  1812.  Another  in  the  course 
of  an  exhausting  three  days'  chase  lost  the  lock  off 
his  cheap,  percussion-cap  gun;  and  when  he  over 
took  the  moose  he  had  to  explode  the  cap  by  ham 
mering  it  with  a  stone. 

It  is  in  "crusting,"  when  the  chase  has  lasted 
but  a  comparatively  short  time,  that  moose  most 
frequently  show  fight;  for  they  are  not  cast  into  a 
state  of  wild  panic  by  a  sudden  and  unlooked-for 
attack  by  a  man  who  is  a  long  distance  from  them, 
but  on  the  contrary,  after  being  worried  and  irri 
tated,  are  approached  very  near  by  foes  from  whom 
they  have  been  fleeing  for  hours.  Nevertheless,  in 
the  majority  of  cases  even  crusted  moose  make  not 
the  slightest  attempt  at  retaliation.  If  the  chase 
has  been  very  long,  or  if  the  depth  of  the  snow  and 
character  of  the  crust  are  exceptionally  disadvan 
tageous  to  them,  they  are  so  utterly  done  out,  when 
overtaken,  that  they  can  not  make  a  struggle,  and 
may  even  be  killed  with  an  axe.  I  know  of  at  least 
five  men  who  have  thus  killed  crusted  moose  with 
an  axe;  one  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  one  in  Min 
nesota,  three  in  Maine. 

But  in  ordinary  snow  a  man  who  should  thus  at 
tempt  to  kill  a  moose  would  merely  jeopardize  his 


The  Moose  267 

own  life;  and  it  is  not  an  uncommon  thing  for 
chased  moose,  when  closely  approached  by  their 
pursuers,  even  when  the  latter  carry  guns  and  are 
expert  snowshoers,  to  charge  them  with  such  fe 
rocity  as  to  put  them  in  much  peril.  A  brother  of 
one  of  my  cow-hands,  a  man  from  Maine,  was  once 
nearly  killed  by  a  cow  moose.  She  had  been  in  a 
yard  with  her  last  year's  calf  when  started.  After 
two  or  three  hours'  chase  he  overtook  them.  They 
were  traveling  in  single  file,  the  cow  breaking  her 
path  through  the  snow,  while  the  calf  followed  close 
behind,  and  in  his  nervousness  sometimes  literally 
ran  up  on  her.  The  man  trotted  close  alongside; 
but,  before  he  could  fire,  the  old  cow  spun  round  and 
charged  him,  her  mane  bristling  and  her  green  eyes 
snapping  with  rage.  It  happened  that  just  there  the 
snow  became  shallow,  and  the  moose  gained  so  rap 
idly  that  the  man,  to  save  his  life,  sprang  up  a  tree. 
As  he  did  so  the  cow  reared  and  struck  at  him,  one 
forefoot  catching  in  his  snowshoe  and  tearing  it 
clear  off,  giving  his  ankle  a  bad  wrench.  After 
watching  him  a  minute  or  two  she  turned  and  con 
tinued  her  flight;  whereupon  he  climbed  down  the 
tree,  patched  up  his  torn  snowshoe  and  limped  after 
the  moose,  which  he  finally  killed. 

An  old  hunter  named  Purvis  told  me  of  an  adven 
ture  of  the  kind,  which  terminated  fatally.  He  was 
hunting  near  the  Cceur  d'Alene  Mountains  with  a 
mining  prospector  named  Pingree;  both  were  origi- 


268  The  Wilderness   Hunter 

nally  from  New  Hampshire.  Late  in  November 
there  came  a  heavy  fall  of  snow,  deep  enough  to 
soon  bring  a  deer  to  a  standstill,  although  not  so 
deep  as  to  hamper  a  moose's  movement.  The  men 
bound  on  their  skees  and  started  to  the  borders  of 
a  lake,  to  kill  some  blacktail.  In  a  thicket  close  to 
the  lake's  brink  they  suddenly  came  across  a  bull 
moose;  a  lean  old  fellow,  still  savage  from  the  rut. 
Pingree,  who  was  nearest,  fired  at  and  wounded  him ; 
whereupon  he  rushed  straight  at  the  man,  knocked 
him  down  before  he  could  turn  round  on  his  skees, 
and  began  to  pound  him  with  his  terrible  forefeet. 
Summoned  by  his  comrade's  despairing  cries,  Pur 
vis  rushed  round  the  thickets,  and  shot  the  squeal 
ing,  trampling  monster  through  the  body,  and  im 
mediately  after  had  to  swing  himself  up  a  small 
tree  to  avoid  its  furious  rush.  The  moose  did  not 
turn  after  this  charge,  but  kept  straight  on,  and 
was  not  seen  again.  The  wounded  man  was  past 
all  help,  for  his  chest  was  beaten  in,  and  he  died  in 
a  couple  of  hours. 


CHAPTER    XII 

HUNTING    LORE 

IT  has  been  my  good-luck  to  kill  every  kind  of 
game  properly  belonging  to  the  United  States: 
though  one  beast  which  I  never  had  a  chance  to  slay, 
the  jaguar,  from  the  torrid  South,  sometimes  comes 
just  across  the  Rio  Grande ;  nor  have  I  ever  hunted 
the  musk-ox  and  polar-bear  in  the  boreal  wastes 
where  they  dwell,  surrounded  by  the  frozen  desola 
tion  of  the  uttermost  North. 

I  have  never  sought  to  make  large  bags,  for  a 
hunter  should  not  be  a  game  butcher.  It  is  always 
lawful  to  kill  dangerous  or  noxious  animals,  like  the 
bear,  cougar,  and  wolf;  but  other  game  should  only 
be  shot  when  there  is  need  of  the  meat,  or  for  the 
sake  of  an  unusually  fine  trophy.  Killing  a  reason 
able  number  of  bulls,  bucks,  or  rams  does  no  harm 
whatever  to  the  species;  to  slay  half  the  males  of 
any  kind  of  game  would  not  stop  the  natural  in 
crease,  and  they  yield  the  best  sport,  and  are  the 
legitimate  objects  of  the  chase.  Cows,  does,  and 
ewes,  on  the  contrary,  should  only  be  killed  (unless 

barren)   in  case  of  necessity;  during  my  last  five 

(269) 


270  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

years'  hunting  I  have  killed  but  five — one  by  a  mis 
chance,  and  the  other  four  for  the  table. 

From  its  very  nature,  the  life  of  the  hunter  is  in 
most  places  evanescent;  and  when  it  has  vanished 
there  can  be  no  real  substitute  in  old  settled  coun 
tries.  Shooting  in  a  private  game  preserve  is  but 
a  dismal  parody ;  the  manliest  and  healthiest  features 
of  the  sport  are  lost  with  the  change  of  conditions. 
We  need,  in  the  interest  of  the  community  at  large, 
a  rigid  system  of  game  laws  rigidly  enforced,  and 
it  is  not  only  admissible,  but  one  may  almost  say 
necessary,  to  establish,  under  the  control  of  the  State, 
great  national  forest  reserves,  which  shall  also  be 
breeding  grounds  and  nurseries  for  wild  game;  but 
I  should  much  regret  to  see  grow  up  in  this  country 
a  system  of  large  private  game  preserves,  kept  for 
the  enjoyment  of  the  very  rich.  One  of  the  chief 
attractions  of  the  life  of  the  wilderness  is  its  rugged 
and  stalwart  democracy ;  there  every  man  stands  for 
what  he  actually  is,  and  can  show  himself  to  be. 

There  are,  in  different  parts  of  our  country, 
chances  to  try  so  many  various  kinds  of  hunting, 
with  rifle  or  with  horse  and  hound,  that  it  is  nearly 
impossible  for  one  man  to  have  experience  of  them 
all.  There  are  many  hunts  I  long  hoped  to  take, 
but  never  did  and  never  shall ;  they  must  be  left  for 
men  with  more  time,  or  for  those  whose  homes  are 
nearer  to  the  hunting  grounds.  I  have  never  seen 


Hunting  Lore  271 

a  grisly  roped  by  the  riders  of  the  plains,  nor  a  black 
bear  killed  with  the  knife  and  hounds  in  the  South 
ern  canebrakes ;  though  at  one  time  I  had  for  many 
years  a  standing  invitation  to  witness  this  last  feat 
on  a  plantation  in  Arkansas.  The  friend  who  gave 
it,  an  old  backwoods  planter,  at  one  time  lost  almost 
all  his  hogs  by  the  numerous  bears  who  infested  his 
neighborhood.  He  took  a  grimly  humorous  re 
venge  each  fall  by  doing  his  winter  killing  among 
the  bears  instead  of  among  the  hogs  they  had  slain ; 
for  as  the  cold  weather  approached  he  regularly 
proceeded  to  lay  in  a  stock  of  bear-bacon,  scouring 
the  cranebrakes  in  a  series  of  systematic  hunts, 
bringing  the  quarry  to  bay  with  the  help  of  a  big 
pack  of  hard-fighting  mongrels,  and  then  killing  it 
with  his  long,  broad-bladed  bowie. 

Again,  I  should  like  to  make  a  trial  at  killing  pec 
caries  with  the  spear,  whether  on  foot  or  on  horse 
back,  and  with  or  without  dogs.  I  should  like  much 
to  repeat  the  experience  of  a  friend  who  cruised 
northward  through  Bering  Sea,  shooting  walrus  and 
polar  bear;  and  that  of  two  other  friends  who  trav 
eled  with  dog-sleds  to  the  Barren  Grounds,  in  chase 
of  the  caribou,  and  of  that  last  survivor  of  the  Ice 
Age,  the  strange  musk-ox.  Once  in  a  while  it 
must  be  good  sport  to  shoot  alligators  by  torch 
light  in  the  everglades  of  Florida  or  the  bayous 
of  Louisiana. 


272  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

If  the  big-game  hunter,  the  lover  of  the  rifle,  has 
a  taste  for  kindred  field  sports  with  rod  and  shot 
gun,  many  are  his  chances  for  pleasure,  though  per 
haps  of  a  less  intense  kind.  The  wild  turkey  really 
deserves  a  place  beside  the  deer;  to  kill  a  wary  old 
gobbler  with  the  small-bore  rifle,  by  fair  still-hunt 
ing,  is  a  triumph  for  the  best  sportsman.  Swans, 
geese,  and  sandhill  cranes  likewise  may  sometimes 
be  killed  with  the  rifle ;  but  more  often  all  three,  save 
perhaps  the  swan,  must  be  shot  over  decoys.  Then 
there  is  prairie-chicken  shooting  on  the  fertile  grain 
prairies  of  the  Middle  West,  from  Minnesota  to 
Texas ;  and  killing  canvas-backs  from  behind  blinds, 
with  the  help  of  that  fearless  swimmer,  the  Chesa 
peake  Bay  dog.  In  Californian  mountains  and  val 
leys  live  the  beautiful  plumed  quails;  and  who  does 
not  know  their  cousin  bob- white,  the  bird  of  the  farm, 
with  his  cheery  voice  and  friendly  ways  ?  For  pure 
fun,  nothing  can  surpass  a  night  scramble  through 
the  woods  after  coon  and  possum. 

The  salmon,  whether  near  Puget  Sound  or  the 
St.  Lawrence,  is  the  royal  fish ;  his  only  rival  is  the 
giant  of  the  warm  Gulf  waters,  the  silver-mailed 
tarpon;  while  along  the  Atlantic  coast  the  great 
striped  bass  likewise  yields  fine  sport  to  the  men  of 
rod  and  reel.  Every  hunter  of  the  mountains  and 
the  northern  woods  knows  the  many  kinds  of 
spotted  trout;  for  the  black  bass  he  cares  less;  and 


Hunting  Lore  273 

least  of  all  for  the  sluggish  pickerel,  and  his  big 
brother  of  the  Great  Lakes,  the  muscallonge. 

Yet  the  sport  yielded  by  rod  and  smooth-bore  is 
really  less  closely  kin  to  the  strong  pleasures  so  be 
loved  by  the  hunter  who  trusts  in  horse  and  rifle  than 
are  certain  other  outdoor  pastimes,  of  the  rougher 
and  hardier  kind.  Such  a  pastime  is  snowshoeing, 
whether  with  webbed  rackets,  in  the  vast  northern 
forests,  or  with  skees,  on  the  bare  slopes  of  the 
Rockies.  Such  is  mountaineering,  especially  when 
joined  with  bold  exploration  of  the  unknown.  Most 
of  our  mountains  are  of  rounded  shape,  and  though 
climbing  them  is  often  hard  work,  it  is  rarely  diffi 
cult  or  dangerous,  save  in  bad  weather,  or  after  a 
snowfall.  But  there  are  many  of  which  this  is  not 
true;  the  Tetons,  for  instance,  and  various  glacier- 
bearing  peaks  in  the  Northwest;  while  the  lofty, 
snow-clad  ranges  of  British  Columbia  and  Alaska 
offer  one  of  the  finest  fields  in  the  world  for  the 
daring  cragsman.  Mountaineering  is  among  the 
manliest  of  sports ;  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  some 
of  our  young  men  with  a  taste  for  hard  work  and 
adventure  among  the  high  hills  will  attempt  the 
conquest  of  these  great  untrodden  mountains  of 
their  own  continent.  As  with  all  pioneer  work,  there 
would  be  far  more  discomfort  and  danger,  far  more 
need  to  display  resolution,  hardihood,  and  wisdom 
in  such  an  attempt  than  in  any  expedition  on  well- 


274  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

known  and  historic  ground  like  the  Swiss  Alps ;  but 
the  victory  would  be  a  hundred-fold  better  worth 
winning. 

The  dweller  or  sojourner  in  the  wilderness  who 
most  keenly  loves  and  appreciates  his  wild  surround 
ings,  and  all  their  sights  and  sounds,  is  the  man  who 
also  loves  and  appreciates  the  books  which  tell  of 
them. 

Foremost  of  all  American  writers  on  outdoor  life 
is  John  Burroughs;  and  I  can  scarcely  suppose  that 
any  man  who  cares  for  existence  outside  the  cities 
would  willingly  be  without  anything  that  he  has 
ever  written.  To  the  naturalist,  to  the  observer  and 
lover  of  nature,  he  is  of  course  worth  many  times 
more  than  any  closet  systematist ;  and  though  he  has 
not  been  very  much  in  really  wild  regions,  his  pages 
so  thrill  with  the  sights  and  sounds  of  outdoor  life 
that  nothing  by  any  writer  who  is  a  mere  profes 
sional  scientist  or  a  mere  professional  hunter  can 
take  their  place,  or  do  more  than  supplement  them 
— for  scientist  and  hunter  alike  would  do  well  to  re 
member  that  before  a  book  can  take  the  highest  rank 
in  any  particular  line  it  must  also  rank  high  in  lit 
erature  proper.  Of  course,  for  us  Americans,  Bur 
roughs  has  a  peculiar  charm  that  he  can  not  have 
for  others,  no  matter  how  much  they,  too,  may  like 
him ;  for  what  he  writes  of  is  our  own,  and  he  calls 
to  our  minds  memories  and  associations  that  are  very 


Hunting  Lore  275 

dear.  His  books  make  us  homesick  when  we  read 
them  in  foreign  lands ;  for  they  spring  from  our  soil 
as  truly  as  "Snowbound"  or  "The  Biglow  Papers."  * 

As  a  woodland  writer,  Thoreau  comes  second  only 
to  Burroughs. 

For  natural  history  in  the  narrower  sense  there 
are  still  no  better  books  than  Audubon  and  Bach- 
man's  Mammals  and  Audubon's  Birds.  There  are 
also  good  works  by  men  like  Coues  and  Bendire; 
and  if  Hart  Merriam,  of  the  Smithsonian,  will  only 
do  for  the  mammals  of  the  United  States  what  he 
has  already  done  for  those  of  the  Adirondacks,  we 
shall  have  the  best  book  of  its  kind  in  existence. 
Nor,  among  less  technical  writings,  should  one  over 
look  such  essays  as  those  of  Maurice  Thompson  and 
Olive  Thorne  Miller. 

There  have  been  many  American  hunting-books; 

*I  am  under  many  obligations  to  the  writings  of  Mr.  Bur 
roughs  (though  there  are  one  or  two  of  his  theories  from 
which  I  should  dissent)  ;  and  there  is  a  piece  of  indebtedness 
in  this  very  volume  of  which  I  have  only  just  become  aware. 
In  my  chapter  on  the  prong-buck  there  is  a  paragraph  which 
will  at  once  suggest  to  any  lover  of  Burroughs  some  sen 
tences  in  his  essay  on  ''Birds  and  Poets."  I  did  not  notice 
the  resemblance  until  happening  to  reread  the  essay  after  my 
own  chapter  was  written,  and  at  the  time  I  had  no  idea  that 
I  was  borrowing  from  anybody,  the  more  so  as  I  was  think 
ing  purely  of  Western  wilderness  life  and  Western  wilderness 
game,  with  which  I  knew  Mr.  Burroughs  had  never  been  fa 
miliar.  I  have  concluded  to  leave  the  paragraph  in  with  this 
acknowledgment. 


276  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

but  too  often  they  have  been  very  worthless,  even 
when  the  writers  possessed  the  necessary  first  hand 
knowledge,  and  the  rare  capacity  of  seeing  the  truth. 
Few  of  the  old-time  hunters  ever  tried  to  write  of 
what  they  had  seen  and  done ;  and  of  those  who  made 
the  effort  fewer  still  succeeded.  Innate  refinement 
and  the  literary  faculty — that  is,  the  faculty  of  writ 
ing  a  thoroughly  interesting  book,  full  of  valuable 
information — may  exist  in  uneducated  people;  but 
if  they  do  not,  no  amount  of  experience  in  the  field 
can  supply  their  lack.  However,  we  have  had  some 
good  works  on  the  chase  and  habits  of  big  game, 
such  as  Caton's  "Deer  and  Antelope  of  America," 
Van  Dyke's  "Still-Hunter,"  Elliott's  "Carolina 
Sports,"  and  Dodge's  "Hunting  Grounds  of  the 
Great  West,"  besides  the  Century  Company's 
"Sport  with  Rod  and  Gun."  Then  there  is  Catlin's 
book,  and  the  journals  of  the  explorers  from  Lewis 
and  Clark  down;  and  occasional  volumes  on  out 
door  life,  such  as  Theodore  Winthrop's  "Canoe 
and  Saddle,"  and  Clarence  King's  "Mountaineering 
in  the  Sierra  Nevada."' 

Two  or  three  of  the  great  writers  of  American 
literature,  notably  Parkman  in  his  "Oregon  Trail," 
and,  with  less  interest,  Irving  in  his  "Trip  on  the 
Prairies,"  have  written  with  power  and  charm  of  life 
in  the  American  wilderness;  but  no  one  has  arisen 
to  do  for  the  far  Western  plainsman  and  Rocky 


Hunting  Lore  277 

Mountain  trappers  quite  what  Hermann  Melville 
did  for  the  South  Sea  whaling  folk  in  "Omoo"  and 
"Moby  Dick."  The  best  description  of  these  old- 
time  dwellers  among  the  mountains  and  on  the 
plains  is  to  be  found  in  a  couple  of  good  volumes 
by  the  Englishman  Ruxton.  However,  the  back 
woodsmen  proper,  both  in  their  forest  homes  and 
when  they  first  began  to  venture  out  on  the  prairie, 
have  been  portrayed  by  a  master  hand.  In  a  suc 
cession  of  wonderfully  drawn  characters,  ranging 
from  "Aaron  Thousandacres"  and  "Ishmael  Bush," 
Fenimore  Cooper  has  preserved  for  always  the  like 
nesses  of  these  stark  pioneer  settlers  and  backwoods 
hunters;  uncouth,  narrow,  hard,  suspicious,  but 
with  all  the  virile  virtues  of  a  young  and  masterful 
race,  a  race  of  mighty  breeders,  mighty  fighters, 
mighty  commonwealth  builders.  As  for  Leather- 
stocking,  he  is  one  of  the  undying  men  of  story; 
grand,  simple,  kindly,  pure-minded,  stanchly  loyal, 
the  type  of  the  steel-thewed  and  iron-willed  hunter- 
warrior. 

Turning  from  the  men  of  fiction  to  the  men  of 
real  life,  it  is  worth  noting  how  many  of  the  lead 
ers  among  our  statesmen  and  soldiers  have  sought 
strength  and  pleasure  in  the  chase,  or  in  kindred 
vigorous  pastimes.  Of  course  field  sports,  or  at 
least  the  wilder  kinds,  which  entail  the  exercise  of 
daring,  and  the  endurance  of  toil  and  hardship,  and 


278  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

which  lead  men  afar  into  the  forests  and  moun 
tains,  stand  above  athletic  exercises;  exactly  as 
among  the  latter,  rugged  outdoor  games,  like  foot 
ball  and  lacrosse,  are  much  superior  to  mere  gym 
nastics  and  calisthenics. 

With  a  few  exceptions,  the  men  among  us  who 
have  stood  foremost  in  political  leadership,  like  their 
fellows  who  have  led  our  armies,  have  been  of  stal 
wart  frame  and  sound  bodily  health.  When  they 
sprang  from  the  frontier  folk,  as  did  Lincoln  and 
Andrew  Jackson,  they  usually  hunted  much  in  their 
youth,  if  only  as  an  incident  in  the  prolonged  war 
fare  waged  by  themselves  and  their  kinsmen  against 
the  wild  forces  of  nature.  Old  Israel  Putnam's  fa 
mous  wolf-killing  feat  comes  strictly  under  this  head. 
Doubtless  he  greatly  enjoyed  the  excitement  of  the 
adventure;  but  he  went  into  it  as  a  matter  of  busi 
ness,  not  of  sport.  The  wolf,  the  last  of  its  kind  in 
his  neighborhood,  had  taken  heavy  toll  of  the  flocks 
of  himself  and  his  friends;  when  they  found  the 
deep  cave  in  which  it  had  made  its  den  it  readily 
beat  off  the  dogs  sent  in  to  assail  it ;  and  so  Putnam 
crept  in  himself,  with  his  torch  and  his  flint-lock 
musket,  and  shot  the  beast  where  it  lay. 

When  such  men  lived  in  long  settled  and  thickly 
peopled  regions,  they  needs  had  to  accommodate 
themselves  to  the  conditions  and  put  up  with  hum 
bler  forms  of  sport.  Webster,  like  his  great  rival 


Hunting  Lore  279 

for  Whig  leadership,  Henry  Clay,  cared  much  for 
horses,  dogs,  and  guns ;  but  though  an  outdoor  man 
he  had  no  chance  to  develop  a  love  for  big-game 
hunting.  He  was,  however,  very  fond  of  the  rod 
and  shotgun.  Mr.  Cabot  Lodge  recently  handed 
me  a  letter  written  to  his  grandfather  by  Webster, 
and  describing  a  day's  trout  fishing.  It  may  be 
worth  giving  for  the  sake  of  the  writer,  and  because 
of  the  fine  heartiness  and  zest  in  enjoyment  which 
it  shows: 

SANDWICH,  June  4, 
Saturday  mor'g 

6  o'clock 
DEAR  SIR: 

I  send  you  eight  or  nine  trout,  which  I  took  yesterday,  in 
that  chief  of  all  brooks,  Mashpee.  I  made  a  long  day  of  it, 
and  with  good  success,  for  me.  John  was  with  me,  full  of 
good  advice,  but  did  not  fish — nor  carry  a  rod. 

I  took  26  trouts,  all  weighing        17  Ib.  12  oz. 

The    largest    (you    have    him) 
weighed  at  Crokers  2  "     4    " 

The  5  largest  3   "     5    " 

The  eight  largest  II    "     8    " 

I  got  these  by  following  your  advice;  that  is,  by  careful  & 
thorough  fishing  of  the  difficult  places,  which  others  do  not 
fish.  The  brook  is  fished,  nearly  every  day.  I  entered  it,  not 
so  high  up  as  we  sometimes  do,  between  7  &  8  o'clock,  &  at 
12  was  hardly  more  than  half  way  down  to  the  meeting-house 
path.  You  see  I  did  not  hurry.  The  day  did  not  hold  out 
to  fish  the  whole  brook  properly.  The  largest  trout  I  took  at 
3  P.M.  (you  see  I  am  precise)  below  the  meeting-house,  under 
a  bush  on  the  right  bank,  two  or  three  rods  below  the  large 
beeches.  It  is  singular,  that  in  the  whole  day,  I  did  not  take 
two  trouts  out  of  the  same  hole.  I  found  both  ends,  or  parts 


28o  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

of  the  Brook  about  equally  productive.  Small  fish  not  plenty, 
in  either.  So  many  hooks  get  everything  which  is  not  hid 
away  in  the  manner  large  trouts  take  care  of  themselves.  I 
hooked  one,  which  I  suppose  to  be  larger  than  any  which  I 
took,  as  he  broke  my  line,  by  fair  pulling,  after  I  had  pulled 
him  out  of  his  den,  &  was  playing  him  in  fair  open  water. 

Of  what  I  send  you,  I  pray  you  keep  what  you  wish  your 
self,  send  three  to  Mr.  Ticknor,  &  three  to  Dr.  Warren;  or 
two  of  the  larger  ones,  to  each  will  perhaps  be  enough — &  if 
there  be  any  left,  there  is  Mr.  Callender  &  Mr.  Blake,  &  Mr. 
Davis,  either  of  them  not  "averse  to  fish."  Pray  let  Mr.  Davis 
see  them — especially  the  large  one. — As  he  promised  to  come, 
&  fell  back,  I  desire  to  excite  his  regrets.  I  hope  you  will 
have  the  large  one  on  your  own  table. 

The  day  was  fine — not  another  hook  in  the  Brook.  John 
steady  as  a  judge — and  everything  else  exactly  right.  I  never, 
on  the  whole,  had  so  agreeable  a  day's  fishing  tho'  the  result, 
in  pounds  or  numbers,  is  not  great; — nor  ever  expect  such 
another. 

Please  preserve  this  letter;  but  rehearse  not  these  particu 
lars  to  the  uninitiated. 

I  think  the  Limerick  not  the  best  hook.  Whether  it  pricks 
too  soon,  or  for  what  other  reason,  I  found  or  thought  I 
found  the  fish  more  likely  to  let  go  his  hold,  from  this,  than 
from  the  old-fashioned  hook. 

YRS. 

D.  WEBSTER. 
H.  CABOT,  Esq. 


The  greatest  of  Americans,  Washington,  was 
very  fond  of  hunting,  both  with  rifle  and  fowling- 
piece,  and  especially  with  horse,  horn,  and  hound. 
Essentially  the  representative  of  all  that  is  best  in 
our  national  life,  standing  high  as  a  general,  high  as 
a  statesman,  and  highest  of  all  as  a  man,  he  could 


Hunting  Lore  281 

never  have  been  what  he  was  had  he  not  taken  de 
light  in  feats  of  hardihood,  of  daring,  and  of  bodily 
prowess.  He  was  strongly  drawn  to  those  field 
sports  which  demand  in  their  follower  the  exercise 
of  the  manly  virtues — courage,  endurance,  physical 
address.  As  a  young  man,  clad  in  the  distinctive 
garb  of  the  backwoodsman,  the  fringed  and  tasseled 
hunting-shirt,  he  led  the  life  of  a  frontier  surveyor; 
and  like  his  fellow  adventurers  in  wilderness  ex 
ploration  and  Indian  campaigning,  he  was  often 
forced  to  trust  to  the  long  rifle  for  keeping  his  party 
in  food.  When  at  his  home,  at  Mount  Vernon,  he 
hunted  from  simple  delight  in  the  sport. 

His  manuscript  diaries,  preserved  in  the  State 
Department  at  Washington,  are  full  of  entries  con 
cerning  his  feats  in  the  chase;  almost  all  of  them 
naturally  falling  in  the  years  between  the  ending  of 
the  French  war  and  the  opening  of  the  Revolution 
ary  struggle  against  the  British,  or  else  in  the  period 
separating  his  service  as  Commander-in-chief  of  the 
Continental  armies  from  his  term  of  office  as  Presi 
dent  of  the  Republic.  These  entries  are  scattered 
through  others  dealing  with  his  daily  duties  in  over 
seeing  his  farm  and  mill,  his  attendance  at  the  Vir 
ginia  House  of  Burgesses,  his  journeys,  the  drill  of 
the  local  militia,  and  all  the  various  interests  of  his 
many-sided  life.  Fond  though  he  was  of  hunting, 
he  was  wholly  incapable  of  the  career  of  inanity  led 


282  The  Wilderness  Hunter 


by  those  who  make  sport,  not  a  manly  pastime,  but 
the  one  serious  business  of  their  lives. 

The  entries  in  the  diaries  are  short,  and  are 
couched  in  the  homely  vigorous  English,  so  famil 
iar  to  the  readers  of  Washington's  journals  and  pri 
vate  letters.  Sometimes  they  are  brief  jottings  in 
reference  to  shooting  trips ;  such  as :  "Rid  out  with 
my  gun";  "went  pheasant  hunting";  "went  duck 
ing,"  and  "went  a-gunning  up  the  Creek."  But  far 
more  often  they  are:  "Rid  out  with  my  hounds," 
"went  a  fox  hunting,"  or  "went  a  hunting,"  In 
their  perfect  simplicity  and  good  faith  they  are 
strongly  characteristic  of  the  man.  He  enters  his 
blank  days  and  failures  as  conscientiously  as  his  red- 
letter  days  of  success :  recording  with  equal  care  on 
one  day,  "Fox  hunting  with  Captain  Posey — catch 
a  Fox,"  and  another,  "Went  a  hunting  with  Lord 
Fairfax  .  .  .  catched  nothing." 

Occasionally  he  began  as  early  as  August  and 
continued  until  April ;  and  while  he  sometimes  made 
but  eight  or  ten  hunts  in  a  season,  at  others  he  made 
as  many  in  a  month.  Often  he  hunted  from  Mt. 
Vernon,  going  out  once  or  twice  a  week,  either  alone 
or  with  a  party  of  his  friends  and  neighbors;  and 
again  he  would  meet  with  these  same  neighbors  at 
one  of  their  houses,  and  devote  several  days  solely 
to  the  chase.  The  country  was  still  very  wild,  and 
now  and  then  game  was  encountered  with  which  the 


Hunting  Lore  283 

fox-hounds  proved  unable  to  cope ;  as  witness  entries 
like :  "found  both  a  Bear  and  a  Fox,  but  got  neith 
er";  "went  a  hunting  .  .  .  started  a  Deer  &  then 
a  Fox  but  got  neither";  and  "Went  a  hunting 
and  after  trailing  a  fox  a  good  while  the  Dogs 
raized  a  Deer  &  ran  out  of  the  Neck  with  it  &  did 
not  some  of  them  at  least  come  home  till  the  next 
day."  If  it  was  a  small  animal,  however,  it  was  soon 
accounted  for.  "Went  a  Hunting  .  .  .  catched 
a  Rakoon  but  never  found  a  fox." 

The  woods  were  so  dense  and  continuous  that  it 
was  often  impossible  for  the  riders  to  keep  close  to 
the  hounds  throughout  the  run;  though  in  one  or 
two  of  the  best  covers,  as  the  journal  records,  Wash 
ington  "directed  paths  to  be  cut  for  Fox  Hunting." 
This  thickness  of  the  timber  made  it  difficult  to  keep 
the  hounds  always  under  control ;  and  there  are  fre 
quent  allusions  to  their  going  off  on  their  own  ac 
count,  as  "Joined  some  dogs  that  were  self  hunt 
ing."  Sometimes  the  hounds  got  so  far  away  that 
it  was  impossible  to  tell  whether  they  had  killed  or 
not,  the  journal  remarking  "catched  nothing  that 
we  knew  of,"  or  "found  a  fox  at  the  head  of  the 
blind  Pocoson  which  we  suppose  was  killed  in  an 
hour  but  could  not  find  it." 

Another  result  of  this  density  and  continuity  of 
cover  was  the  frequent  recurrence  of  days  of  ill 
success.  There  are  many  such  entries  as:  "Went 


284  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

Fox  hunting,  but  started  nothing" ;  "Went  a  hunt 
ing,  but  catched  nothing";  "found  nothing'*;  "found 
a  Fox  and  lost  it."  Often  failure  followed  long 
and  hard  runs:  "Started  a  Fox,  run  him  four 
hours,  took  the  Hounds  off  at  night" ;  "found  a  Fox 
and  run  it  6  hours  and  then  lost" ;  "Went  a  hunting 
above  Darrells  .  .  .  found  a  fox  by  two  dogs  but 
lost  it  upon  joining  the  Pack."  In  the  season  of 
1772-73  Washington  hunted  eighteen  days  and  killed 
nine  foxes;  and  though  there  were  seasons  when 
he  was  out  much  more  often,  this  proportion  of 
kills  to  runs  was  if  anything  above  the  average. 
At  the  beginning  of  1768  he  met  with  a  series  of 
blank  days  which  might  well  have  daunted  a  less 
patient  and  persevering  hunter.  In  January  and  the 
early  part  of  February  he  was  out  nine  times  with 
out  getting  a  thing;  but  this  diary  does  not  contain 
a  word  of  disappointment  or  surprise,  each  succes 
sive  piece  of  ill  luck  being  entered  without  comment, 
even  when  one  day  he  met  some  more  fortunate 
friends  "who  had  just  catched  2  foxes."  At  last, 
on  February  I2th,  he  himself  "catched  two  foxes"; 
the  six  or  eight  gentlemen  of  the  neighborhood  who 
made  up  the  field  all  went  home  with  him  to  Mt. 
Vernon,  to  dine  and  pass  the  night,  and  in  the  hunt 
of  the  following  day  they  repeated  the  feat  of  a 
double  score.  In  the  next  seven  days'  hunting  he 
killed  four  times. 


Hunting  Lore  285 

The  runs  of  course  varied  greatly  in  length;  on 
one  day  he  "found  a  bitch  fox  at  Piney  Branch  and 
killed  it  in  an  hour";  on  another  he  "killed  a  Dog 
fox  after  having  him  on  foot  three  hours  &  hard 
running  an  hour  and  a  qr." ;  and  on  yet  another  he 
"catched  a  fox  with  a  bobd  Tail  &  cut  ears  after  7 
hours  chase  in  which  most  of  the  Dogs  were  worst 
ed."  Sometimes  he  caught  his  fox  in  thirty-five 
minutes,  and  again  he  might  run  it  nearly  the  whole 
day  in  vain;  the  average  run  seems  to  have  been 
from  an  hour  and  a  half  to  three  hours.  Sometimes 
the  entry  records  merely  the  barren  fact  of  the  run; 
at  others  a  few  particulars  are  given,  with  home 
spun,  telling  directness,  as :  "Went  a  hunting  with 
Jacky  Custis  and  catched  a  Bitch  Fox  after  three 
hours  chase — founded  it  on  ye.  ck.  by  I.  Soals"; 
or  "went  a  Fox  hunting  with  Lund  Washington — 
took  the  drag  of  a  fox  by  Isaac  Gates  &  carrd.  it 
tolerably  well  to  the  old  Glebe  then  touched  now 
and  then  upon  a  cold  scent  till  we  came  into  Col. 
Fairfaxes  Neck  where  we  found  about  half  after 
three  upon  the  Hills  just  above  Accotinck  Creek — 
after  running  till  quite  Dark  took  off  the  dogs  and 
came  home." 

The  foxes  were  doubtless  mostly  of  the  gray  kind, 
and  besides  going  to  holes  they  treed  readily.  In 
January,  1770,  he  was  out  seven  days,  killing  four 
foxes;  and  two  of  the  entries  in  the  journal  relate 


286  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

to  foxes  which  treed;  one,  on  the  loth,  being,  "I 
went  a  hunting  in  the  Neck  and  visited  the  plantn. 
there  found  and  killed  a  bitch  fox  after  treeing  it  3 
t.  chasg.  it  abt.  3  hrs.,"  and  the  other  on  the  23d : 
"Went  a  hunting  after  breakfast  &  found  a  Fox  at 
muddy  hole  &  killed  her  (it  being  a  bitch)  after  a 
chase  of  better  than  two  hours  and  after  treeing  her 
twice  the  last  of  which  times  she  fell  dead  out  of 
the  Tree  after  being  therein  sevl.  minutes  apparent 
ly."  In  April,  1769,  he  hunted  four  days,  and  on 
every  occasion  the  fox  treed.  April  7th,  "Dog  fox 
killed,  ran  an  hour  &  treed  twice."  April  nth, 
"Went  a  fox  hunting  and  took  a  fox  alive  after 
running  him  to  a  Tree — brot  him  home."  April 
1 2th,  "Chased  the  above  fox  an  hour  &  45  minutes 
when  he  treed  again  after  which  we  lost  him." 
April  1 3th,  "Killed  a  dog  fox  after  treeing  him  in 
35  minutes." 

Washington  continued  his  fox  hunting  until,  in 
the  spring  of  1775,  the  guns  of  the  minutemen  in 
Massachusetts  called  him  to  the  command  of  the 
Revolutionary  soldiery.  When  the  eight  weary 
years  of  campaigning  were  over,  he  said  good-by 
to  the  war-worn  veterans  whom  he  had  led  through 
defeat  and  disaster  to  ultimate  triumph,  and  became 
once  more  a  Virginia  country  gentleman.  Then  he 
took  up  his  fox-hunting  with  as  much  zest  as  ever. 
The  entries  in  his  journal  are  now  rather  longer, 


Hunting  Lore  287 

and  go  more  into  detail  than  formerly.  Thus,  on 
December  I2th,  1785,  he  writes  that  after  an  early 
breakfast  he  went  on  a  hunt  and  found  a  fox  at 
half  after  ten,  "being  first  plagued  with  the  dogs 
running  hogs,"  followed  on  his  drag  for  some  time, 
then  ran  him  hard  for  an  hour,  when  there  came  a 
fault;  but  when  four  dogs  which  had  been  thrown 
out  rejoined  the  pack  they  put  the  fox  up  afresh,  and 
after  fifty  minutes'  run  killed  him  in  an  open  field, 
"every  Rider  &  every  Dog  being  present  at  the 
Death."  With  his  usual  alternations  between  days 
like  this,  and  days  of  ill-luck,  he  hunted  steadily 
every  season  until  his  term  of  private  life  again 
drew  to  a  close  and  he  was  called  to  the  headship  of 
the  nation  he  had  so  largely  helped  to  found. 

In  a  certain  kind  of  fox-hunting  lore  there  is 
much  reference  to  a  Warwickshire  squire  who,  when 
the  Parliamentary  arid  Royalist  armies  were  forming 
for  the  battle  at  Edgehill,  was  discovered  between  the 
hostile  lines,  unmovedly  drawing  the  covers  for  a 
fox.  Now,  this  placid  sportsman  should  by  rights 
have  been  slain  offhand  by  the  first  trooper  who 
reached  him,  whether  Cavalier  or  Roundhead.  He 
had  mistaken  means  for  ends,  he  had  confounded 
the  healthful  play  which  should  fit  a  man  for  needful 
work  with  the  work  itself ;  and  mistakes  of  this  kind 
are  sometimes  criminal.  Hardy  sports  of  the  field 
offer  the  best  possible  training  for  war;  but  they 


288  The  Wilderness  Hunter 

become  contemptible  when  indulged  in  while  the 
nation  is  at  death-grips  with  her  enemies. 

It  was  not  in  Washington's  strong  nature  to  make 
such  an  error.  Nor  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
he  likely  to  undervalue  either  the  pleasure,  or  the 
real  worth  of  outdoor  sports.  The  qualities  of  heart, 
mind  and  body,  which  made  him  delight  in  the 
hunting-field,  and  which  he  there  exercised  and  de 
veloped,  stood  him  in  good  stead  in  many  a  long 
campaign  and  on  many  a  stricken  field ;  they  helped 
to  build  that  stern  capacity  for  leadership  in  war 
which  He  showed  alike  through  the  bitter  woe  of 
the  winter  at  Valley  Forge,  on  the  night  when  he 
ferried  his  men  across  the  half-frozen  Delaware  to 
the  overthrow  of  the  German  mercenaries  at  Tren 
ton,  and  in  the  brilliant  feat  of  arms  whereof  the 
outcome  was  the  decisive  victory  of  Yorktown. 


APPENDIX 


(289) 
13 


VOL.  II. 


APPENDIX 

IN  this  volume  I  have  avoided  repeating  what  was 
contained  in  either  of  my  former  books,  the  Hunt- 
ing  Trips  of  a  Ranchman  and  Ranch  Life  and  the 
Hunting  Trail.  For  many  details  of  life  and  work 
in  the  cattle  country  I  must  refer  the  reader  to  these 
two  volumes;  and  also  for  more  full  accounts  of 
the  habits  and  methods  of  hunting  such  game  as  deer 
and  antelope.  As  far  as  I  know,  the  description  in 
my  Ranch  Life  of  the  habits  and  the  chase  of  the 
mountain-sheep  is  the  only  moderately  complete  ac 
count  thereof  that  has  ever  been  published.  The 
five  game-heads  figured  in  this  volume  are  copied 
exactly  from  the  originals,  now  in  my  home;  the 
animals  were,  of  course,  shot  by  myself. 

There  have  been  many  changes,  both  in  my  old 
hunting-grounds  and  my  old  hunting-friends,  since 
I  first  followed  the  chase  in  the  far  Western  coun 
try.  Where  the  buffalo  and  the  Indian  ranged, 
along  the  Little  Missouri,  the  branded  herds  of  the 
ranchmen  now  graze;  the  scene  of  my  elk-hunt  at 

(291) 


292  Appendix 

Two-Ocean  Pass  is  now  part  of  the  National  Forest 
Reserve;  settlers  and  miners  have  invaded  the 
ground  where  I  killed  bear  and  moose ;  and  steamers 
ply  on  the  lonely  waters  of  Kootenai  Lake.  Of  my 
hunting  companions  some  are  alive ;  others — among 
them  my  stanch  and  valued  friend,  Will  Dow,  and 
crabbed,  surly  old  Hank  Griffen — are  dead;  while 
yet  others  have  drifted  away,  and  I  know  not  what 
has  become  of  them. 

I  have  made  no  effort  to  indicate  the  best  kind  of 
camp  kit  for  hunting,  for  the  excellent  reason  that  it 
depends  so  much  upon  the  kind  of  trip  taken,  and 
upon  the  circumstances  of  the  person  taking  it.  The 
hunting  trip  may  be  made  with  a  pack-train,  or  with 
a  wagon,  or  with  a  canoe,  or  on  foot ;  and  the  hunter 
may  have  half  a  dozen  attendants,  or  he  may  go  ab 
solutely  alone.  I  have  myself  made  trips  under  all 
of  these  circumstances.  At  times  I  have  gone  with 
two  or  three  men,  several  tents,  and  an  elaborate 
apparatus  for  cooking,  cases  of  canned  goods,  and 
the  like.  On  the  other  hand,  I  have  made  trips  on 
horseback,  with  nothing  whatsoever  beyond  what  I 
had  on,  save  my  oil-skin  slicker,  a  metal  cup,  and 
some  hardtack,  tea,  and  salt  in  the  saddle  pockets; 
and  I  have  gone  for  a  week  or  two's  journey  on  foot, 
carrying  on  my  shoulders  my  blanket,  a  frying-pan, 


Appendix  293 

some  salt,  a  little  flour,  a  small  chunk  of  bacon,  and 
a  hatchet.  So  it  is  with  dress.  The  clothes  should 
be  stout,  of  a  neutral  tint;  the  hat  should  be  soft, 
without  too  large  a  brim;  the  shoes  heavy,  and  the 
soles  studded  with  small  nails,  save  when  moccasins 
or  rubber-soled  shoes  are  worn;  but  within  these 
limits  there  is  room  for  plenty  of  variation.  Avoid, 
however,  the  so-called  deer-stalker's  cap,  which  is 
an  abomination;  its  peaked  brim  giving  no  protec 
tion  whatsoever  to  the  eyes  when  facing  the  sun 
quartering,  a  position  in  which  many  shots  must  be 
taken.  In  very  cold  regions,  fur  coats,  caps,  and 
mittens,  and  all-wool  underclothing  are  necessary. 
I  dislike  rubber  boots  when  they  can  possibly  be 
avoided.  In  hunting  in  snow  in  the  winter  I  use 
the  so-called  German  socks  and  felt  overshoes  where 
possible.  One  winter  I  had  an  ermine  cap  made. 
It  wras  very  good  for  peeping  over  the  snowy  ridge 
crests  when  game  was  on  the  other  side ;  but,  except 
when  the  entire  landscape  was  snow-covered,  it  was 
an  unmitigated  nuisance.  In  winter,  webbed  snow- 
shoes  are  used  in  the  thick  woods,  and  skees  in  the 
open  country. 

There  is  an  endless  variety  of  opinion  about 
rifles,  and  all  that  can  be  said  with  certainty  is  that 
any  good  modern  rifle  will  do.  It  is  the  man  be- 


294  Appendix 

hind  the  rifle  that  counts,  after  the  weapon  has 
reached  a  certain  stage  of  perfection.  One  of  my 
friends  invariably  uses  an  old  Government  Spring 
field,  a  45-calibre,  with  an  ounce  bullet.  Another 
cares  for  nothing  but  the  40-90  Sharps',  a  weapon 
for  which  I  myself  have  much  partiality.  Another 
uses  always  the  old  45-calibre  Sharps',  and  yet  an 
other  the  45-calibre  Remington.  Two  of  the  best 
bear  and  elk  hunters  I  know  prefer  the  32  and  38- 
calibre  Marlin's  with  long  cartridges,  weapons  with 
which  I  myself  would  not  undertake  to  produce  any 
good  results.  Yet  others  prefer  pieces  of  very  large 
calibre. 

The  amount  of  it  is  that  each  one  of  these  guns 
possesses  some  excellence  which  the  others  lack, 
but  which  is  in  most  cases  atoned  for  by  some  cor 
responding  defect.  Simplicity  of  mechanism  is  very 
important,  but  so  is  rapidity  of  fire ;  and  it  is  hard  to 
get  both  of  them  developed  to  the  highest  degree 
in  the  same  piece.  In  the  same  way,  flatness  of 
trajectory,  penetration,  range,  shock,  and  accuracy 
are  all  qualities  which  must  be  attained;  but  to  get 
one  in  perfection  usually  means  the  sacrifice  of  some 
of  the  rest.  For  instance,  other  things  being  equal, 
the  smallest  calibre  has  the  greatest  penetration,  but 
gives  the  least  shock;  while  a  very  flat  trajectory, 


Appendix  295 

if  acquired  by  heavy  charges  of  powder,  means  the 
sacrifice  of  accuracy.  Similarly,  solid  and  hollow 
pointed  bullets  have,  respectively,  their  merits  and 
demerits.  There  is  no  use  of  dogmatizing  about 
weapons.  Some  which  prove  excellent  for  particu 
lar  countries  and  kinds  of  hunting  are  useless  in 
others. 

There  seems  to  be  no  doubt,  judging  from  the 
testimony  of  sportsmen  in  South  Africa  and  in  In 
dia,  that  very  heavy  calibre  double-barreled  rifles 
are  best  for  use  in  the  dense  jungles  and  against  the 
thick-hided  game  of  those  regions ;  but  they  are  of 
very  little  value  with  us.  In  1882,  one  of  the  buffalo 
hunters  on  the  Little  Missouri  obtained  from  some 
Englishman  a  double-barreled  ten-bore  rifle  of  the 
kind  used  against  rhinoceros,  buffalo,  and  elephant 
in  the  Old  World ;  but  it  proved  very  inferior  to  the 
40  and  45-calibre  Sharps'  buffalo  guns  when  used 
under  the  conditions  of  American  buffalo  hunting, 
the  tremendous  shock  given  by  the  bullet  not  com 
pensating  for  the  gun's  great  relative  deficiency  in 
range  and  accuracy,  while  even  the  penetration  was 
inferior  at  ordinary  distances.  It  is  largely  also 
a  matter  of  individual  taste.  At  one  time  I  pos 
sessed  a  very  expensive  double-barreled  SCXD  Ex 
press,  by  one  of  the  crack  English  makers;  but  I 


296  Appendix 

never  liked  the  gun,  and  could  not  do  as  well  with 
it  as  with  my  repeater,  which  cost  barely  a  sixth  as 
much.  So  one  day  I  handed  it  to  a  Scotch  friend, 
who  was  manifestly  ill  at  ease  with  a  Winchester 
exactly  like  my  own.  He  took  to  the  double-barrel 
as  naturally  as  I  did  to  the  repeater,  and  did  excel 
lent  work  with  it.  Personally,  I  have  always  pre 
ferred  the  Winchester.  I  now  use  a  45-90,  with 
my  old  buffalo  gun,  a  40-90  Sharps',  as  spare  rifle. 
Both,  of  course,  have  specially  tested  barrels,  and 
are  stocked  and  sighted  to  suit  myself. 


END   OF  VOLUME   TWO 


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